


Time is an illusion

by Neverending_Rainbow



Category: Red Dead Redemption
Genre: Action/Adventure, And needs A PLAN to work it all out, Basically, Dutch will come up with it, Eventual Romance, Everyone Has Issues, F/M, I mean glacial burn, M/M, Multi, Mystery, OT3, Slow Burn, Time Loop, Time Travel, Western, glacial
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-12-12
Updated: 2019-06-21
Packaged: 2019-09-17 00:20:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 5
Words: 35,014
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16964235
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Neverending_Rainbow/pseuds/Neverending_Rainbow
Summary: At the end of his life, Arthur Morgan feels at peace. He’s helped John Marston escape with his family and closed the book on his part in the tragic tale of the Van Der Linde gang.Then he wakes up at the beginning of it all, all over again. As if given a second chance to right the perceived wrongs and tragedies of the group.But all is not as it seems.========First and foremost, the genre of this story is Mystery/Adventure.Keep that in mind.WILL UPDATE SOON. EXAMS ARE FINALLY OVER! AND STUDIES!





	1. A New Dawn

**Author's Note:**

> Hey! This is my first fanfic in a year and a half, and the first time I am writing these characters. So please be constructive in your criticism and tell me if I'm writing Arthur or anyone else as OOC.
> 
> I'm using Rdr2 characterisation for of them as I haven't played Rdr1. So I'm winging it in some aspects. 
> 
> I also haven't finished Rdr2 because of irl busyness, but I know the gist of the story. Maybe I'll try and doing it during xmas. 
> 
> This fic is also Arthur/John/Abigail, among other minor pairings that will be revealed as the story moves forward. I tried writing this with Arthur/John, or Abigail/John, or even Abigail/Arthur out of desperation, and I couldn't make it work. 
> 
> OT3 is best ship. I LOVE them all too much as characters.
> 
> There will be other pairings, but not as big. Maybe some surprising ones.
> 
> I'm aware that there is another RDR2 time loop fanfic, and I'm so happy about that :). I love this story idea.
> 
> Title is taken from an Adventure Time song. I watch a lot of cartoons.

Part 1:"I'm afraid that in order to escape this loop, you will need to suffer more."

 

* * *

 

"The only thing worth writing about is the human heart in conflict with itself."

 

-Lord Byron.

 

* * *

 

The sun was cold. Too cold.

 

As it steadily rose in front of Arthur, its early rays hit him square in the face. He blinked back the light, struggling to breathe and stay alive.

 

It was beautiful. And peaceful. And the end. The last thing he’d ever see.

 

 _I hope John makes it...no, I know him. He will make it. For Abigail's and Jack’_ _s sakes._ He hoped.

 

Micah was gone. Dutch was gone. Sadie was safe. Charles was safe. Tilly was safe. Abigail and Jack were both safe.

 

And most of all, he- John was safe and going meet up with his family. His true family.

 

Arthur was finally alone. Completely and utterly alone.

 

There was nothing left to worry about.

 

He was at peace.

 

Finally.

 

He relaxed against the rough ground, expelling a final breath as his body went limp.

 

He expected it to all end.

 

For his existence to cease. For his life to sputter out.

 

But it didn’t.

 

 

Arthur’s vision faded, and all sensation left him as an inky darkness abruptly overwhelmed him, trapping him somewhere.

 

A hellish void.

 

He was blind and deaf and mute in that place, but he was still alert enough enough to suffer it. 

 

The nothingness. Bleak. Consuming. Never Ending.

 

He didn't know how long that cursed existence went on for. Only that it was either one long drawn out second, or years upon unfathomable years.

 

He wanted it to end.

 

Maybe it would never end.

 

Maybe this was hell.

 

Maybe this was his punishment.

 

For all the all the harm he'd wrought through wrongly following Dutch for so many years and giving into the myopic evil of his lifestyle.

 

It had cost him his family.

 

Sean, Kieran, Hosea, Lenny, Karen, and Susan; all of them had died unjustly. Heck, even Molly had as well. She hadn't done anything to deserve the death she'd gotten and hadn't even betrayed them in the end after all.

 

And then there were the others.

 

All the innocents or near-innocents he could've spared if he'd just taken a moment to think instead of blindly following Dutch at every opportunity, or in general with his numerous criminal pursuits. And the dozens and dozens of lawmen- who'd just been trying to do their jobs and defend their own from the gang; a bunch of rampaging outlaws from their perspective.

 

There was also Strauss's debtors. Such as poor Mr Downes whom he'd beaten into a pulp for almost nothing, among countless others. It was probably where he'd gotten his Tuberculosis from.

 

And then there was the Wapiti, whom Dutch had screwed over in his final scheme to get ahead. It had led to poor Eagle Flies dying, while sacrificing himself to save him, and Rains Fall losing his only remaining child.

 

The list went on and on. A never-ending stream of corpses that had simply gotten bigger and bigger, until he'd died and been rendered incapable of killing anyone else.

 

At least he'd saved John and his family...the one act that had redeemed him, in death.

 

It was a lifeline. A single thought-

 

So Arthur grabbed onto it. In that nothingness, it was a bright thing. Something rather than nothing.

 

Yes. He'd saved John-

 

But he was so very selfish.

 

He wanted- he wished that he could see him again. Even if it was only briefly.

 

Their relationship in life had been so messed up.

 

They'd been family once many years ago, raised and bound together by Dutch and Hosea.

 

The near decade between them hadn't mattered at all. He'd been the aloof and gruff...older one, while John had been the carefree and lighthearted younger one.

 

Over time their bond had lessened, declining until it was a shadow of its former self.

 

Arthur couldn't pinpoint exactly why. He guessed it was either their criminal lifestyle getting in the way, or the shittiness of their life in general.

 

No- he knew why. It'd been the deaths of Eliza and his son Isaac.

 

The event had traumatised him, making him more cynical and rougher and angry than he already was in the process. He'd been sent spiraling into a deep pit he couldn't escape from.

 

John had never found out. He hadn't understood Arthur's sudden change in behaviour and had thus treated him like crap over it.

 

They'd almost come to blows on more than one occasion after that.

 

Then Abigail had appeared, and John had become a father himself. Albeit a reluctant one. A very, _very_ reluctant one.

 

It'd pissed Arthur off. That John could be so careless and uncaring, of the precious thing he had. 

 

Something he had lost himself.

 

A child.

 

Then John had taken off for a year, and Arthur’s hatred of him had only grown. Until he'd returned of course and exacerbated the issue.

 

It'd taken a lot of death and several close calls, for them to become remotely close on a brotherly level again.

 

John had finally chosen between the two loyalties he was stuck between and manned up, and Arthur himself had gotten his head out of his ass and realised what was truly important.

 

They'd wasted so much time bickering and arguing about petty things. Time that could've been spent getting to know each other better and forging a true relationship.

 

Yes. He missed John most of all.

 

And everyone else of course-

 

Suddenly, Arthur could feel something...rushing at him.

 

Like running water. Except it was faint, almost intangible. A concept of water, rather than something physically present…

 

Where did that come from-

 

Then it was on him.

 

The force of whatever it was sent him reeling backwards.

 

He was drowning in it, struggling feebly against the current.

 

Then he stopped and let it carry him.

 

Because he was sick and tired of suffering, of going on and on with no end in sight.

 

He wanted his existence to just end already. For his death to play out as it should've had.

 

Something whirred, like a machine-

 

Light blinded him, and he was wrenched back into existence.

 

 

* * *

 

 

Arthur came to himself and blinked blearily. It was cold again, although far colder than the dawning sun had been.

 

His eyes adjusted to the gloom and the world itself seemed to blink in an out of existence for a moment, everything flickering in place, making him wince. His imagination was just playing tricks on him-

 

Then a pair of large ears suddenly flickered in front of him and he almost dropped the lantern he distantly realised he was holding.

 

He was on a horse. A white one with black flecks that he could barely make out through the thick blizzard. It wasn't Arturo, whom he'd lost just before he'd died. He had been all black.

 

Arthur almost teared up, remembering the horrific way Arturo had perished. He'd been shot down by the Pinkerton's and Arthur hadn't been able to do anything to save him. Not that he could at that point. All he'd been able to give Arturo was a comforting pat and a fleeting goodbye before he'd been forced to flee with John to escape their encroaching foes.

 

God, he missed that horse.

 

Shaking his head, Arthur raised the lantern to look ahead and froze completely when he finally noticed what he was wearing thanks to it illuminating an all too familiar blue sleeve and pair of thick gloves.

 

His blue long coat.

 

It'd been eons since he'd last worn it. All the way back to before everything had gone to shit.

 

The coat had become buried at the bottom of his chest under everything else, forgotten and mislead, thrown there in a hurry when the gang had initially arrived at Horeshoe Overlook.

 

Arthur swallowed gingerly. He had to check something. Just had to. This couldn't be real.

 

Carefully moving the lamp to his right hand and holding it with the reins, he peeled off his left glove with his teeth, and used his now free left hand to feel his face.

 

Yes. He had at least a day or two of beard growth. He'd been clean shaven when he'd died. His preferred look.

 

So the blue coat, and the snow, and the slight beard, and the horse-

 

The goddamn horse.

 

He knew who it belonged to. He'd been lying to himself from the moment he'd seen it.

 

It was Taima. Charles's horse.

 

But Charles was long gone. He'd left to help the Wapiti.

 

So-

 

No. It couldn't be.

 

None of it made any sense.

 

Except it did.

 

 _What is this place? What's going on? Unless...this is hell._ He thought, panicking slightly.

 

"Arthur!? What's going on son? Why are you ignoring me?" An impatient, but somewhat concerned voice called out. One that almost made Arthur fumble for his revolver.

 

Dropping the reins, Arthur hurriedly put his left glove back on, then picked them up again and steered Taima around to face who'd spoken. 

 

He flinched when he saw who it was.

 

It was him.

 

Dutch.

 

He was driving a wagon and scowled at him lightly when he saw him staring.

 

Arthur swallowed and looked into the wagon behind Dutch, and his fears rose.

 

They were all there. All the tired faces he'd expected to see. The women...and little Jack.

 

His heart lurched.

 

He had to-

 

"Arthur! Davey is bleeding to death! Pull yourself together! We need to stop." Someone distantly yelled.

 

Arthur whipped his head aside to meet the eyes of the man who'd just spoken.

 

He hadn't noticed him because he'd been so intent on checking the wagon and had passed over him in his rush.

 

It was too dark and snowy. He couldn't quite make him out.

 

So, he blinked and narrowed his eyes, finally focusing enough to see who it was exactly.

 

Then he did a double take and quickly withdrew. His brain short circuited as he processed whom he'd just seen.

 

The person sitting next to Dutch-it was _Hosea_. He'd recognise that solemn face and those grey eyes anywhere.

 

Hosea was alive.

 

And so was Molly, he abruptly realised. He'd seen her anxious face in the group of women behind Dutch.

 

 _Does that mean that Lenny is alive too? And if he is, then is John here too?_ Arthur inwardly rambled, his heart beating faster and faster as he processed everything at once.

 

It was almost too much.

 

"Arthur! Son! Please kindly snap out of this- uncharacteristic grief or panic, or whatever it is you're going through. Remember! Every moment counts. Did you find anything? Anywhere we can take shelter?" Dutch's concerned reproach snapped him out of his state.

 

Arthur took a deep breath and did his best to calm down.

 

Considering everything he'd just seen, there was only one explanation for his situation.

 

He had somehow gone back in time. Back to the beginning of the final sorry months of his life, to just after the Blackwater heist. He could think about that later, but for now he had to play along until he could pull himself together.

 

And make a plan of some sort. He couldn't just kill Dutch right away- something strange was going on.

 

"Pardon me Dutch. Just- whatever. There's an abandoned mining town ahead. Plenty of space for everyone if we clear it up. No word from Micah or John yet." Arthur said hurriedly, trying to sound normal and struggling to remember the exact details of that night.

 

Everyone in the wagon visibly relaxed and Dutch nodded at him solemnly.

 

"Good. Please lead on. And don't fall apart on us." He stated.

 

"I won't. Just had an odd moment- like someone walked across my grave. Must be the cold." Arthur tried to assure him and deftly turned Taima back around.

 

He could see Colter in the distance. Just like that first time.

 

Steeling himself, he pushed Taima forward and led everyone to it. Just like that first time.

 

It all went as the same as before.

 

Davey was dead. The woman and Jack were shivering and tired. Charles and Lenny and Bill and Javier would soon arrive with the horses and supplies. Dutch dispatched Pearson and Susan to turn the town into "a camp", then he turned to Arthur with an expectant look and beckoned him to follow.

 

He nodded minutely and heeded his order.

 

Even if he hated Dutch- every fibre of his being and his deranged beliefs, he couldn't kill him just yet.

 

It was too soon. He needed to get adjusted before even contemplating doing anything so drastic.

 

To make sure this was all real, and not some weird dying dream he was going through.

 

And if he really was in the past, it meant that he would see John again. Not the one that he'd helped- the John he'd grown close too, but someone he could hopefully recapture that relationship with.

 

Then he realised something.

 

 _If John is here- then he's either bleeding out in the goddamn snow or is about to be attacked by fucking wolves. I can't leave him out there. But Dutch'll expect me to follow him now and meet up with Micah of all fucking people. I remember that he found a homestead full of O'Driscolls. It's where Sadie was...I'll have to rescue John tomorrow. Sadie takes priority now. I'll go as soon as I can tomorrow morning._ He silently vowed, trying to juggle all the different events of that night.

 

There were just so many things to take into account-

 

"Coming, Arthur?" Dutch called out from atop The Count. His tone was harsh, but he had a concerned expression on.

 

"Arthur? I have Taima all ready for you." Charles quickly stepped in and held out her reigns to him.

 

Oh, right. Charles. Someone else Arthur hadn't expected to see again. One of the most decent people he'd ever known- knew, and one who'd saved his life multiple times.

 

He really...was going to see everyone together again. Back as one big family, and not the twisted broken mess it'd become in the end.

 

"Yeah. I'm coming. Thanks Charles. I was jus' thinking- about everything." He rambled in excuse and hurried through the snow and took Taima's reins and his lamp back. He didn't want Dutch to think that anything was wrong with him and get suspicious.

 

"Good. We need you to be strong Arthur. Everything is going to be okay. We just need to get everyone warm and safe." Charles assured him and clapped Taima's rump as Arthur and Dutch set off.

 

Dutch quickly flicked The Count into a canter and made for the western passage out of Coulter, Arthur did the same with Taima and followed closely.

 

She responded easily, but not as easily as she would've had if he'd been her master.

 

It made him miss Arturo all the more.

 

Riding on, Arthur did his best to respond cordially to Dutch as they began discussing the current situation and what they had to do to save everyone.

 

He had to suppress a bitter chuckle when Dutch expressed his sadness at losing Davey and enquired if he was all right as he seemed so "uncharacteristically out of it".

 

"I'm fine Dutch. Jus' Blackwater and losing so many people...and then this. I expected things to go different. That's all." He said, keeping up a falsely affable tone.

 

"Right. I understand Son. The ferry job was a real bust. At least you and Hosea hid our money and we got everyone out before those damn Pinkerton's could find us." Dutch replied, a fraught look on his face. One that seemed real on the surface, but Arthur knew the truth.

 

"You shot a girl, right? An innocent. I got that impression from the way some of the boys were talking about it as we rode." Arthur ventured brazenly, unable to help himself.

 

"I did. I didn't mean to- she just ran in the way. You're- why are you bringing this up now? And Arthur...why do you sound so accusatory?" Dutch said slowly. He sounded very hurt.

 

"It jus' doesn't seem like you. That whole job didn't. Even Hosea had reservations about it...I worry sometimes. You're like a father to me. I'm sorry for bringing it up so soon Dutch. You're right. This isn't the time for it. We need to band together and make sure everyone survives." Arthur said carefully, barely managing to utter the pack of lies without venturing into overt sarcasm.

 

There was a pause as Dutch turned away from him and seemed to mull over his words.

 

"Yeah. We should focus on the present. But- you worry me as well Arthur. You've seemed very strange this past hour. Very strange indeed. All woozy and the like. Do you want to go back and help Pearson and Miss Grimshaw set things up? We ain't so far away that it'll be an issue. You can send Javier or Bill if you're quick enough. I can find Mr Bell by myself." He offered gently.

 

Arthur had been so preoccupied with keeping his cool around Dutch, he had forgotten that they were riding out to meet him; Micah Bell, the traitorous snake who'd destroyed everything, his family and his life. Dutch had been bad enough on his own, he readily recognised that, but Micah was worse.

 

 _No fucking way am I letting Micah-fucking-Bell and Dutch be alone together now. Especially with Sadie being at the homestead ahead, trapped with the monsters who killed her husband._ He thought, his expression darkening as he remembered the trauma that the O'Driscolls had inflicted upon Sadie, as well as the torture they'd put him through later.

 

"No. I'm fine Dutch.  We need to get on with it and find Micah." He said sharply, allowing an undercurrent of hate to enter his voice. Dutch knew that he vehemently mistrusted and detested Micah at this point, so there was little point in concealing it.

 

"Arthur...Look, I know that you distrust Mr Bell and all, but can't you just give him a chance? He's been a great help to us these past few months. And he should able to assist us even more. He has various contacts and connections we can make us of." Dutch argued.

 

Arthur couldn't help himself. He scoffed loudly at Dutch's feeble reasoning and then laughed, emitting an almost harsh bark that echoed evenly around them.

 

Dutch sent him a fierce, but equally perplexed glare.

 

"You really believe that? Dutch, Micah is- well, he's scum. And that's putting it lightly. He's responsible for why the Blackwater heist went bad, ain't he?" Arthur stated, the accusation spilling from his mouth before he could stop it. He'd recalled something that Lenny or John or Bill had said about Micah "getting excited" before the heist, and that he'd been too gung-ho in pushing Dutch.

 

Dutch's eyes widened, and he just stared at Arthur for a few moments, struck speechless by his words, before his stunned expression morphed into one of sheer disbelief.

 

"Where did you get that ridiculous idea? Don't blame Mr Bell for Blackwater going sideways. It went bad for other reasons- ones that I cannot pinpoint right now. What is wrong with you?  I have half a mind to send you back to camp anyway. Please don't- just don't, accuse Micah when we see him. I can't deal with your squabbling right now." Dutch mumbled, putting his back to Arthur and hunching in his saddle. He was the very picture of dejectedness.

 

"Fine Dutch. I'll hold back for tonight." Arthur called out.

 

Dutch merely nodded in response and they continued in uncomfortable silence.

 

Arthur cursed under his breath. Driving Dutch away so early was a bad idea. But he couldn't help it. His old anger had well and truly returned; the "giant inside of him" as Mary Linton had called it, in her final letter to him.

 

Despite himself, he did miss her.  But he couldn't afford to think about that now. So he pushed it away.

 

Soon enough, they ran into Micah.

 

The bastard smiled his usual filthy smirk as he rode up to them, expression turning to leering derision when his eyes fell on Arthur.

 

It was just like the one he’d had when he’d beaten the shit out of him at their final confrontation. A feat Micah had only achieved because he had been too sick and weak from his late stage tuberculosis to really fight back.

 

Arthur’s fingers twitched with the want to draw his revolver and shoot the bastard square in the face or drag him off his horse and pummel him to bloody hell with his bare fists.

 

He could’ve easily done the latter, overpowered Micah and everything as he was back to his proper strength, but he didn’t.

 

Because of several reasons: one, he still didn’t know if what he was experiencing was even real. It could be some dying delusion or dream for all he knew: Two, as angry as he was, he wasn’t just going to blindly charge into a sensitive situation without thinking things over first. Not anymore. He’d learned that the hard way with all the times he'd messed up prior in his life. This fed into the final thing: if he had been sent back in time, he didn’t know the how or why of it. It could either be an act of God or the devil or some other agent, or something far beyond even his meagre comprehension.

 

He’d never been a particularly religious man. Even when he'd been dying of tuberculosis, he hadn't given God much thought. Acting more out of his own will for redemption, than any consideration for a higher being. Despite talking to Reverend Swanson about his fears, before the pastor had left.

 

The harshness of the world, coupled with several traumatic events in his life, such as his sons death, had long ago killed any religious inclinations he'd possessed. Although this "second chance" was making him doubt that.

 

 _Maybe God is real after all?_ He thought absently as Micah and Dutch greeted one another.

 

But that question was for another time, so Arthur shoved aside his feelings for now and steeled himself for the coming hours. He was going to have to put up with Micah Bell without showing any untoward anger to him.

 

"Mr Bell." He greeted the grinning bastard curtly, as Micah turned to him after having told Dutch about the bright homestead he'd found ahead.

 

"Mr Morgan! Dutch was right. You do seem slow this evening. To be honest with you, I'm concerned. Are you sure you're well enough to come? It's quite a ways. And you might get in our way as well." Micah sneered, tone dripping with faux care.

 

"No, Micah. I'm quite well. Feel better than I have in a long time. I'll come along." Arthur said steadily, doing his best to not give in to his fury.

 

This snake wasn't worth it. It would be hard, but he could do it.

 

Micah narrowed his eyes at him for a split second, then seemingly relaxed into his casual smarminess. He hadn't expected Arthur to not rise up to his taunting insults. 

 

"Micah, enough. And Arthur...I’ve already spoken to you. Let's get going.  That homestead seems promising. We need supplies- food, blankets, whatever's useful. Every bit helps. Our family needs it." Dutch said and motioned for Micah to lead the way, sounding so sincere that Arthur was almost fooled for a moment.

 

Almost.

 

Then he remembered Dutch refusing to safeguard the women and children when they'd went on their last heist together, leading to Abigail being captured by the Pinkerton's when they'd attacked in their absence. It made his intense loathing for both of them return tenfold.

 

"Come on. Let's jus' get this over with." Arthur said lowly, almost snarling. The memory was too much. He couldn't bring himself to be polite to Micah or Dutch anymore. He didn't want to put up with them for a moment longer than he had to.

 

He spurred Taima ahead and pointedly ignored the twin expressions of disbelief his sudden exit created.

 

"Uhh Morgan. You don't know where-" Micah started.

 

"I can figure out where it is just fine. It ain't that hard." Arthur snapped at him. Although it'd been a long time since he'd last ridden the path to Sadie's homestead, he had a vague recollection of where it was.

 

Sure enough, something seemed to be guiding him the correct way. It was like an unconscious pull telling him where he needed to go.

 

 _Maybe it's intuition or something. I am doing this for the second time. Don't worry, I'm coming Sadie. I'll be there soon._ He promised her silently and rode on.

 

Then Arthur realised it was quiet. Too quiet.

 

Glancing behind him, he realised that Micah and Dutch were riding very close to one another with their heads bowed. It didn't take much for him to put two and two together; they were whispering urgently about something. Probably him.

 

He couldn't let them do that. So, he cut in with a mundane enquiry.

 

"Sorry for interrupting your conversation, but I wanted to ask Micah something." He said loudly.

 

"Yes? You seem to know your way to the homestead just fine. So what do you need me for?" Micah said shrilly, annoyance clearly present in his tone.

 

Arthur had to bite down on his cheek to stop himself from laughing out loud. It was just too comical.

 

"It's just that- well, I was wondering if you could tell me about the layout of the place? And how many people you thought was there?." He said innocently, knowing fully well what useless questions they were.

 

Micah would've told them all the intel they'd needed when they'd arrived at the homestead anyway, but he just wanted to stop him and Dutch from talking.

 

"It looks like what every other fucking homestead looks like; a small house and a bunch of other buildings. As for how many people are there- how the fuck would I know? Why are you asking so many pointless things Morgan?" Micah snapped at him. He was radiating irritation.

 

Arthur couldn't really sense Dutch because he was further behind. But the man was uncharacteristically quiet, so chances were good that he felt the same as Micah.

 

"Oh, no reason. I just wanted to know in advance. It's easier to get ahead that way." Arthur said blithely.

 

"What." Micah muttered flatly.

 

"You two- just can it. Arthur, stop fooling around. Micah, there's no need to be so confrontational. Calm down. We don't know what we'll exactly find there, so we shouldn't make any plans until we scope the area out." Dutch finally lectured.

 

Arthur could sense an unspoken request underneath his words; he wanted Arthur to back down, so he could return to talking to Micah alone. But knowing his priorities, he solidly ignored it.

 

Maybe he could even use this opportunity to mess around with them both a bit more.

 

"I have a good idea of what we'll find there. I bet it's gonna be a gang of some sort. We'll probably have to fight them off." Arthur suggested breezily.

 

"Where did you get that idea?" Micah said and scoffed.

 

"Intuition. Something about the fact that a small homestead is having a party in a blizzard like this. Sounds like a bunch of men up to no good." Arthur explained, making sure his voice was bright and clear.

 

"That's bullshit Morgan. You're drawing conclusions out of nowhere." Micah said sourly.

 

"Boys, please! Stop squabbling. And Arthur- you have no way of knowing that. You've been wrong in the past. What is- I'm not going to start arguing with you myself. Just both of you- please stop." Dutch pleaded with them. He sounded very tired.

 

Arthur backed down, but he didn't stop talking completely.

 

"All right Dutch. I apologise. I'm tired as well. But we should still discuss things." Arthur suggested with fake gentleness.

 

"Like what, Arthur?" Dutch said slowly.

 

"Well, if they have a stable, I hope we can find me a horse. I don't wanna impose on Charles any longer than I have to. And I think that we'd better get on with it..." Arthur started.

 

He kept both Micah and Dutch preoccupied with useless chatter the rest of the way to Sadie's homestead, urging them to hurry when he could. He didn't want Sadie to suffer a moment longer than she already had.

 

They soon arrived at the well-lit homestead, and Micah shot Arthur a death glare as they dismounted while Dutch just gave him a generally disapproving look.

 

Arthur was completely unfazed. He even returned Micah's glare with a deft smile, a gesture that seemed to him piss off more than anything else.

 

"Right. Everything looks good. They should have plenty of supplies for us to commandeer." Dutch said and nodded at them both.

 

They trotted out into the area in front of the house and crouched out of sight.

 

"Do you want us to split up Dutch? To cover the place quicker." Arthur asked, knowing exactly what his plans were.

 

Now that they had finally arrived, it was all coming back to him. He wanted to get things done quickly so he could free and comfort Sadie.

 

"Yeah. Micah, go on the right and hide behind that cart, while you hunker down on the left and get behind that little out post. I'll walk up to the house and pretend to be a lost traveler or something and try to get the people inside to lower their guard. You and Micah heed my signal- I'll scratch my nose. You can attack then." Dutch instructed.

 

Arthur blinked. The cart...

 

"Wait! There's something on that cart. It looks like a body. Lemme make sure." He whispered hurriedly, narrowing his eyes to pretend he was trying to make something out in the darkness.

 

He then crouched lower and sprinted over to it.

 

"Arthur...what are you doing?" Dutch seethed at him for ignoring his orders, then was shocked into silence when Arthur pulled back the white cloth on the cart and exposed a bloodied and beaten corpse.

 

Arthurs stomach turned. He knew who it was: Sadie's husband, Jacob.

 

 _Poor woman. Poor man._ He thought.

 

Micah whistled lowly.

 

"Nice catch cowboy." He said, sounding truly impressed.

 

"Well, good job Arthur. I trained you well it seems. Well this...complicates things. If they killed this poor man- he must've been the owner of the homestead, then they might've easily murdered me in cold blood." Dutch said.

 

"So, I was right. They is a bunch of no good lowlifes." Arthur stated.

 

"Lucky guess Morgan. We still need to come up with a plan on how to take them all down." Micah countered.

 

"No. We don't. I can still draw them out. You boys open fire on them after I've lowered their guard. Just wait until a good number of them have left the house. Shouldn't take a minute." Dutch suggested.

 

Arthur quickly agreed along with Micah, and unholstered his revolver as Dutch made his way to the front door and knocked.

 

Micah briefly stared at Arthur with an oddly veiled expression, then shook his head and looked away. Arthur didn't have the patience to ask him what was going on.

 

Things went much more quickly than they had the first time.

 

Dutch drew the O'Driscoll's out and lowered their guard with his "lost traveller" spiel, then he scratched his nose and stepped back, throwing himself behind the cart with Micah, before all three of them opened fire on the unsuspecting bandits.

 

Arthur had no real qualms in gunning them down. They'd killed Sadie's husband and done unspeakable things to her. That, and they needed the supplies the O'Driscolls were hoarding to ensure that everyone survived the cold of the mountain. He may have been sent back in time and given a chance to try to right things, but he still had to be practical about it.

 

It'd became a problem in the future, when Dutch would expect him to gladly kill lawmen and innocents alike under the excuse of it helping the gang somehow.

 

Arthur wasn't that man anymore. He had more of a conscious and wouldn't gun down people if it was uncalled for or unneeded.

 

Then the last gunshot rang out and the last bandit fell, and Arthur was suddenly faced with having to meet Sadie Adler again for the first time.

 

He followed Dutch and Micah into the house and was abruptly hit by hunger pangs so strong that he almost keeled over on the spot.

 

Dutch eyed him warily.

 

"Better find something to eat Arthur. Some biscuits or something. Check those cabinets by the table." He suggested.

 

Arthur nodded weakly and followed his instructions, finding and eating the first thing he found. Which was some canned peaches.

 

His vision clearing, he took a deep breath. He was obviously more worn out than he thought.

 

 _Who knew that dying and then coming back to life in the past could do such a number on you._ He snarked to himself as he dropped the can on the floor and resumed looking for the basement hatch.

 

He soon spotted it. It was just under the stairs.

 

Sadie was down there. But he wanted Dutch and Micah to leave the house first. Especially the latter, as he didn't want him to harrass her or burn her house down yet again.

 

Clearing his throat, Arthur turned to the other two and got their attention with a wave.

 

"Is it okay if I continue looking around here while you two search outside? I'll get all the food together and look for some blankets and other things." He said.

 

"Uh, sure. If you really want to. I was going to ask you to check out the stables because you wanted to look for a horse. But if you want to get everything together here, it'd be helpful." Dutch said.

 

"I bet Morgan is going to use his amazing new powers of observation to find all sorts of crazy things. That, or he just wants to stay where it's warm. But sure, I'll check out the stables for a goddamn horse." Micah gave in and left.

 

Dutch nodded at Arthur and then followed Micah out.

 

A moment later an angry shout echoed around the vicinity as the man who'd ambushed Arthur the first time in the stables found Micah instead.

 

Dutch ran to help him.

 

Grinning widely for a moment, Arthur steeled himself and made his way to the hatch.

 

Unsure of what to so, he looked around and paused when he saw a photograph of Sadie and her husband at their wedding. It gave him an idea.

 

He went over to the hatch and knocked on it firmly.

 

"Is anyone down there? Miss? I uh- we found your husband and we've killed the men who killed him. We won’t harm you. We ain’t good men, but we ain’t them.” Arthur said, doing his best to sound assuring.

 

There was no reply, or any sound, from behind the hatch.

 

Arthur sighed.

 

 _Of course, she doesn’_ _t know me. Sadie wouldn’_ _t trust a random stranger. Especially after her ordeal._ He thought.

 

“Miss, I’m going to open the hatch now. Please don’t panic, or attack me.” Arthur said.

 

Bracing himself, he grab the handle of the small door and yanked it up.

 

Sadie was right behind it.

 

She cowered in on herself and glared at him cautiously as the dim light lit up her face. Although her cheeks were marred with bruises and cuts, it didn’t diminish her fierce gaze at all.

 

But she didn’t attack him.

 

“Miss, I’m Arthur Morgan. As I said, the men who were holding you captive are all dead. I’m not gonna to hurt you- I’m with the Van der Linde gang, and I’m here with two others. I’ll admit it- we did come here to loot this homestead, but we ain't like the men- they’re called the O'Driscoll gang and we hate their black guts as well- and won’t treat you wrong as they did. Now we got lost in this blizzard and made a camp at an old mining town less than an hour from here. The rest of our group is there, if you come with us, we can offer you shelter and treat your wounds. You can make your mind from there about what you want to do.” Arthur said tersely, choosing his words carefully.

 

There was a pregnant pause.

 

“Fine. If you was gonna hurt me by now, you would’ve done so already. Not that I trust you or your gang of murderers.” She finally said and climbed out of the basement, shivering as it was freezing.

 

Arthur moved aside and let her walk into the kitchen, where she retrieved a large shawl from a broken cabinet, sat down at the table, and pulled it tightly around herself.

 

"Lemme get the others." Arthur walked over to the doorway. "Hey Dutch! I found someone! We can help her." He yelled.

 

A moment later, Dutch came hurrying into the house and his eyes widened considerably when he saw Sadie. 

 

"Hello Miss-". He started.

 

"Mrs. Adler." Sadie corrected him.

 

"Mrs Adler, I'm mighty sorry for all this. But we need supplies- blankets and the like. We have women and a child with us here, and we need to look after them properly." Dutch said gently.

 

"Go ahead. Take whatever you want. I'll come with you. It's better than being here with only a bunch of corpses for company." Sadie muttered emotionlessly and looked away.

 

"Thank you. Now Arthur, why don't you get the food and everything together here and I'll meet you out front in about fifteen minutes. I'll send Micah in to help you after a minute or two- he found a horse in the stables and got jumped by a remaining O'Driscoll- they must've got lost in the blizzard as well. He's getting it ready for you." Dutch said and left.

 

"Right Mrs Adler, you just sit tight here and I'll be back in jus' a second." Arthur assured Sadie and started moving around the kitchen to gather up food. She didn't meet his eyes.

 

There wasn't too much. Only a few cans and some oatcakes and other things. Long term food for mountain life. But it was enough for now. At least until he went hunting with Charles. 

 

Then he turned his attention to finding blankets. After taking the one from the bed upstairs, he was surprised by a sharp yell from downstairs and ran down just in time to step between a leering Micah and a shaking Sadie. He inwardly thanked himself for arriving before Micah had had a chance to do some real damage.

 

"Micah! What the hell are you doing? Leave her alone. We have to get things together." Arthur barked at the other man.

 

Micah held up his arms defensively.

 

"No need to get so jumpy Morgan. I wasn't going to do anything to the poor widow. Just having a bit of fun." He countered.

 

"A bit of fun? Chasing a poor woman around like that- I'm not gonna push this now. But stop it and get on with it. I've gathered all the food together that I could find, and was trying to find some blankets. Why don't you go down into the cellar and I'll continue searching here?" Arthur ordered.

 

Micah scowled at him.

 

"How about you do that? And leave me alone with the lady? There's something up with you cowboy. And I don't like it." He growled.

 

A frustrated sigh from behind Arthur made them both jump. He turned to find Sadie looking at them with a face of pure thunder.

 

"Will both of you just shut it. You-" She pointed at Micah. "Quit whining and go to the cellar. There should be some more food there. Yer friend and I will get the blankets together."

 

Micah's expression darkened.

 

"Why you little-" He snarled.

 

"Go, Micah." Arthur demanded.

 

He glared at them both and then went down.

 

"Thank you Mrs Adler." Arthur said.

 

Sadie rolled her eyes.

 

"C'mon, If I was you I would've been outta here by now. Let's get on with it." She muttered.

 

With Sadie's help, everything went much quicker. Food, several blankets, and two cloaks were gathered together, assembled on the kitchen table, and then divided into four loads for the four horses they had.

 

Before they packed things up and headed out, Sadie grabbed her wedding photograph and stared at it solemnly. She was debating with herself over it.

 

"If you want, I can take that for you." Arthur offered.

 

"No. I'll hold onto it." Sadie answered thickly and tucked it under her shawl.

 

"We'll come back and bury your husband proper tomorrow. You have my word." Dutch assured her.

 

Sadie nodded weakly and left the house.

 

Following her outside, they carefully packed the horses and mounted up. Sadie got behind Dutch as he had the biggest horse and thus the most leftover space.

 

Arthur led his new (old, old) horse and tied it to Taima, before getting on her.

 

It was a horse that Arthur had never been particularly fond of, having sold it the first chance he could to the stables in Valentine, but he'd still been a good and loyal companion during the time they'd been together. So he scratched it behind the ears and patted it gently before setting off with the others.

 

The journey back was slow and silent. The snow seemed thicker than before and because they had some baggage and another passenger, the speed of their horses was halved.

 

Arthur also realised just how tired he was. It hit him in waves, and he had to shake himself every now and then to stop himself from falling asleep

 

Eventually, Coulter came into sight. Arthur had never been so thankful to see the little cluster of snowy buildings in his entire life.

 

After a few more minutes of riding, they finally rode in. Charles greeted them with most of the women and Pearson.

 

"Miss Grimshaw, this is Mrs Adler. We rescued her from some O'Driscolls who'd killed her husband, at a homestead not far from here. Take her in and get her warm and treat her wounds and such." Dutch said.

 

Miss Grimshaw nodded and helped Sadie get down from Dutch's horse, and handed her to Tilly and Karen, who bundled her in a blanket and took her into one of the small huts.

 

"Your bed is ready Mr Morgan. You're in the hut next to Mr Van Der Linde and Mr Matthews over there. Mr Bell you're with the rest of the boys in that building over there." She said and pointed where each one was.

 

Arthur nodded thankfully and got off his horse- he'd called it Jimmy or something last time, and tuned Micah's grumbling about his sleeping space out, and started stumbling towards where his bed was. He needed rest. Enough for two lifetimes he felt.

 

A hand on his shoulder stopped him.

 

He looked back and saw it was Dutch, who regarded him with a somewhat wary eye.

 

"Get plenty of sleep Arthur. I'll need you to do a lot for this gang in the next couple of days. Least of all find John and track down any O'Driscolls hiding out in this valley. And I hope that whatever you're going through is only due to tiredness or pressure...that you wake up more like yourself tomorrow. The Arthur I know." He said and smiled warmly.

 

Arthur returned the smile. It was a forced one, but he tried to not make it look a grimace.

 

"Don't worry Dutch. I will. And I'll find John myself. I've been too hard on him. I need to make peace with him." He assured him.

 

Dutch raised his eyes.

 

"You've forgiven John? That's great son! My boys'll become proper brothers again. You were so angry at him, it was worrying me." Dutch revealed.

 

"Uh huh. I was. But no more. It ain't worth it. Being so petty." Arthur mumbled.

 

"God, you're tired son. You go get some rest now. Don't worry about John. He's strong. You'll find him tomorrow and he'll be fine." Dutch said and chuckled and squeezed his shoulder gently.

 

 _You don't know the half of it Dutch. Just how strong John is._ Arthur thought, and raised his head and looked his former father figure straight in the eye.

 

"Oh, I know it. And John is stronger than any of us. He'll definitely be fine." He stated, then he gently shook off Dutch's hand and headed to bed.

 

Dutch watched him go, an odd expression on his face.

 

Arthur shut the door of his little shack behind him and kicked off his shoes, then he fell into bed and was asleep within a minute.

 

He slept like the dead.

 

 

 


	2. Hide and Seek

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First of all, a big thanks to everyone who left a kudos/a comment/both! My ego was stroked a lot :)
> 
> Guess who managed to update a day earlier than she was planning to...me! woot!
> 
> Lastly, I hope this chapter surprises everyone. In a good way:)

* * *

 

The sun was cold. Too cold.

Arthur opened his eyes and blinked twice. It was directly shining into his eyes.

For a moment, he thought he was back on that accursed hill, about to experience his final death rattle, and all that he’d seen and done the preceding evening was just a dying hallucination.

Then his eyes adjusted to the light and he realised he was in his hut in Coulter, having embarrassingly gone to bed in his full clothing.

The sun had just shone through a crack in the door and happened to hit his face.

Sitting up and rubbing the cricks out of his neck, Arthur sighed and reflected on his situation.

_Well, at least I’m still here. So, this truly is a second chance of some kind. Starting today, I need to start planning on how I’m gonna change things. But first of all...John. I must find John._ He thought.

Cursing his slowness, Arthur pulled on his shoes and hurried outside to find Dutch and Hosea to check up with them, and then Abigail and Jack, so he could tell them that he was going to find John and forgive him for everything.

Closing the door of his hut behind him, he looked around to see if he could spot anyone.

Pearson and Charles were talking next to a table laden with supplies outside of an old forge, the latter rubbing his bandaged hand gingerly. He’d gotten injured in the Blackwater heist.

That heist was something else Arthur would probably have to address to change things, considering how much it had adversely affected everyone at the start.

The whole gang had stood behind Dutch and hadn’t really questioned his actions on that ferry at all. The prime example being the senseless shooting of an innocent young girl, which had been completely against their so-called code and their moral beliefs. He’d have to try to upend that view to change the gang’s fate.

Slightly further on, Javier sat outside the barracks polishing his guns. There either wasn't enough space for him inside, or Micah had been enough of an ass to drive him out.

Arthur passed him over. He didn’t need to speak him just yet.

Then next to the hitching posts, someone was handling the horses-

A breath hitched in Arthur's throat. He staggered through the snow to get a closer look, almost tripping over himself.

It was exactly who the thought it was.

_Lenny. Alive and whole. Here._ He thought, wincing slightly as he recalled the sudden way the younger man had died; being shot down by two Pinkerton agents right in front of him.

Lenny's death had been so quick, so abrupt and relentless after losing Hosea, that it'd haunted him up until his own demise.

He'd missed the boy so much. He just had to...

_I'll just say good morning to him, and then I'll go see Abigail. Just quickly._ He decided.

Walking over, he mumbled a faint good morning to Pearson and Charles and nodded at Javier in recognition to ensure he wasn't left out.

Lenny noticed him approaching and greeted him with a wide smile. An expression that Arthur hadn't seen in so very long, and thought he’d never see again, that it made his heart clench quite painfully.

"Hey Arthur! Just checking the horses over. Your new stallion is a beaut. I heard that Micah found it- better not let him hold it over you." Lenny said conversationally.

Arthur took a deep breath, trying to rein himself in. Seeing Lenny again was overwhelming. So much so, that it made his throat quite dry and he found himself unable to speak for a few moments. But before the younger man could notice, he quickly swallowed and returned his smile, deciding to just do his best.

"Good morning Lenny. Nice job by the way. I ain't had a chance to really take stock of my new horse yet- even name it as a matter of fact. As for Micah, I never let him hold anything over me. He ain't worth shit." He replied evenly, managing to keep his voice from cracking.

Lenny laughed.

"Thanks. I'll have your horse ready if you need it today. And you're right. Micah ain't worth shit." He said.

Arthur let out a light chuckle. He felt buoyant, almost joyful. It was the effect Lenny had had on him. He couldn't remember the last time he'd come this close to feeling so carefree. That emotion had died with Lenny on that St Denis rooftop the first time, and now that he’d reconnected with him, it was back.

"Right. As much as I'd love to stay and chat and joke about Micah- I need to find Dutch and Hosea. Do you know where they are?" He asked sincerely. He'd forgotten the exact layout of Coulter and didn't want to waste time looking for them.

"Sure. The main hut. Right over there. All the folk are there." Lenny supplied helpfully and pointed the building out.

Arthur bobbed his head in thanks and left.

Javier was gone from his spot. Maybe he'd joined the others.

Entering the hut, Arthur shut the door behind him and surveyed the room. He took stock of everyone, just so he had a good idea of where they were that morning.

The women were huddled around the slightly burning stove with Jack and Abigail, while Dutch and Hosea were talking to Javier on the far side. Sadie sat by herself in a corner near the door, holding onto her wedding photograph tightly and looking into nothingness.

Strauss, Rev.Swanson, Micah, and Bill were nowhere to be seen. They were probably in the barracks with the other men.

And he’d almost forgotten…Uncle. Knowing him, he was probably passed out drunk somewhere.

That accounted for everyone except John, who was currently bleeding out in the snow on a mountaintop. He really needed to get on that, but he just needed to check up with Dutch and Hosea first, to try to put some sort of change into motion.

"Mrs Adler." He greeted Sadie and sauntered in. She didn't register his presence at all, and just continued staring on.

He felt for her.

Abigail noticed his presence immediately and stood up to welcome him. Dutch and Hosea glanced up and nodded at him before resuming their conversation with Javier.

"Arthur! Dutch told me than you've forgive John- or is thinking of doing so. And I... well I was wondering if you could go out and look for him as soon as you’re able.” She paused to collect herself. “It's been two days. I'm worried sick about him." She implored.

Unlike the first time in which he'd gruffly rebuffed her, Arthur met her graciously this time round.

"Sure. Don't worry, I'll find him myself. Maybe Javier can help me. Lemme just speak to Dutch and Hosea about one thing real quick and I'll go." He said warmly.

Abigail relaxed slightly at his soft demeanor.

"Thank you so very much Arthur. I'm glad you've decided to square your relationship with my husband. It's great." She said and sat down next to Jack, whispering something to him that made him hug her.

Smiling lightly at them, Arthur moved on to the rest of the women. Karen and Tilly and Mary-Beth returned his bright greeting eagerly, but Miss Grimshaw simply nodded at him and then went back to repairing a shirt she’d been working on before his entrance. Even in their current situation, she was always doing work. It was pretty commendable.

Only one person didn't acknowledge his presence. Someone he'd vowed to not let down this time around.

Molly O'Shea, she was huddled right against the stove and staring mournfully at Dutch. She obviously didn't like the fact that the man she loved, and thought loved her the same, wasn't spending time with her when things were currently so desolate. She looked like she needed some sort of comfort, so he walked over.

"Good morning Miss O'Shea. How are you this fine day?" Arthur ventured gently. He could give her a few moments just to set her right.

Molly flinched slightly and then looked up and smiled wanly at him.

"Oh, Mr Morgan. Good morning. I am fine, although I'm not too sure this day is. Considering how cold it is and that we just lost someone." She said.

"Davey." Arthur said.

"Yeah...I didn't really know him. But- well, I'm sad. Death isn't nice." She muttered lowly.

"No, it ain't. Not at all. Have a nice day Miss O'Shea. I need to talk to Dutch." Arthur informed her.

Molly nodded and went back to staring at Dutch with sad eyes.

Arthur paused. She seemed so despondent, that he really didn't want to leave her on her own. That had been the root of her unhappiness in the past, no one had ever spent a single moment with her and gotten to know her. Despite her behavior and “uppity attitude” as Karen had called it, he didn’t think that was fair this time around.

So, he quickly walked over to Karen and Tilly and Mary-Beth, who were gossiping amongst themselves, and cleared his throat to get their attention.

"Hey girls, why don't you talk to Miss O'Shea? Keep her company. She seems lonely and considering our situation, it's better to stick together." He suggested.

All of three of them stared in suprise at him.

Then Karen sighed balefully, and Mary-Beth shook her head and looked disinterested, but Tilly seemed to think for a moment and then nodded.

"Ok Arthur. I'll- we'll try. Miss O’Shea usually ain't one for talking to us. But you're right. Us girls need to stick together when we can." Tilly agreed.

"Tilly..." Mary-Beth trailed off unsurely.

"C'mon, I made sure both of you was welcome when you first joined the gang. We should do the same for Molly. It's been months and none of us have even tried to get to know her proper. The same for her with us. We can at least try." Tilly beseeched them.

"All right. I'll try if you try. Karen?" Mary-Beth said.

"You know my opinion of Molly, Mary-Beth. I'll come...but don't expect any miracles." Karen warned.

"Oh, don't be so dramatic. Let's go. Thank you for telling us Arthur." Tilly said.

Arthur nodded approvingly as they called Molly over, who blinked a few times and then joined them after giving Dutch one last lingering look.

He left their side and finally approached Dutch and Hosea.

Hosea grinned at him as pulled up a chair and sat down next to them.

"Welcome Arthur. It’s good to see you. Dutch just told me that you've decided to forgive John. It's about damn time. I was sick and tired of your ill-natured sniping." He said.

"Yeah, yeah. It's good to see you too old man. And I'll go looking for John in a moment. I jus' wanted to ask you and Dutch one thing." Arthur stated, unable to keep an undertone of wistfulness from creeping into his voice.

The last time he'd seen Hosea, was when Agent Milton had unceremoniously gunned him down and left him to bleed out into the street in front of the St Denis bank.

He failed to suppress a slight shiver at remembering Hosea’s brutal death. It had affected him that much.

"Hmm. Arthur, are you all right? You seem a little out of it. Dutch told me that you weren't yourself last night. You were snapping at him and such." Hosea said, sounding slightly concerned.

"Me? I'm fine. There's no need to worry Hosea. I guess I was jus' a little shaken by all that’s happened." Arthur tried to assure him.

_That's right. I need to lie low...be more like my old angry self, so as not to make anyone suspect me. I need to act as if I still believe in Dutch and his mad beliefs, at least to some extent._ He thought quickly.

"It was quite a shock Arthur. You didn’t sound like yourself at all. Have you- have you been having doubts recently? About the gang? And my leadership?" Dutch questioned demurely.

"I apologize for that Dutch. I think that it's mostly the failed heist, and this whole situation just getting to me. The thing is, I think we should go east and lay low for a while. Because I know you, you'll want to go charging ahead into the next scheme with no break, and that’s the last thing this gang needs. Now, I know we have no money and all that we have is stashed in Blackwater, but we can plan around that. We've been through worse as a group." Arthur stated evenly, the forced apology tasting bitter in his mouth.

"You sound like Hosea. But I don't know son. It's early days yet. I still haven't decided on what we're going to do next. Although, it's not like we're just going to find a big score up here, in the middle of the mountains.” Dutch joked.

"Yes, Arthur does sound like me. And for good reason I wager- because Dutch, he's realised what we need to do at a time like this. In order to survive, and then thrive and prosper, we need to lie low. Heading east and doing nothing is our best bet now. Then there’s our stash...we just need to wait on that. In the meantime, we can send someone Blackwater’s way- like Pearson, or one of the girls even, to check on the whereabouts of young Sean and Mac. We've lost too many people. We need to re-group." Hosea argued, backing Arthur up.

_Hosea...you really were our voice of reason. No wonder Dutch lost it after you died._ Arthur thought somberly.

"Gentlemen, it's too soon for this. We need to find John, get some food, and try to figure out what the hell the O'Driscolls are doing here. Oh, we also need to bury Mrs Adler’s husband. I can send Bill or Lenny out later." Dutch said wanly, obviously displeased that they were arguing against him.

"I'll deal with some of that today- hunting and finding John I mean. I jus' came to see you n' Hosea to apologise and sort things out." Arthur relayed.

"Well, thank you for apologising. You do seem more like yourself. And John- he'll be glad to find out that you've forgiven him. You'd better get going. Take Javier with you." Dutch advised.

"I had the same thought. As for the food issue, I'll go hunting with Charles when I get back." Arthur said.

"Right. Javier, Arthur wants to go find John. Now." Dutch called out.

Javier, who'd been waiting patiently during their conversation, stood up and nodded his assent to the order.

"Now? Sure. I know that John would do the same for me.” He said and then turned to Jack. “Don't worry little man, Arthur and I will find your padre." He comforted him.

Jack nodded and hid his face in his mother's shoulder. Abigail patted his head and smiled at Javier in thanks.

"Come on Arthur." He said jovially and left the hut.

Arthur followed him out with only slight trepidation. Truthfully, he didn't know what to make of Javier, or their relationship.

In the days before the final train heist, Javier had acted like a fucking scumbag. He'd berated Arthur over his tuberculosis and “attitude” towards Dutch, even if he'd been very clearly ill by that point, and hadn’t spent any time with Jack, almost completely ignoring the small boy.

This was in stark contrast to his past attitude- or well, the one he had now. When he’d viewed him and John as brothers, and little Jack as a nephew. He'd told the boy folk stories from Mexico and had watched over him a few times.

On the other hand, there was his fanatic devotion to Dutch and his ideology on civilization. Unlike the rest of them, he seemingly hadn’t used it as just an overextended excuse for their criminal lifestyle, and had actually fully believed in it. He'd also told him that a long time ago Dutch had saved him, given him a purpose to keep living, and he was inclined to believe him despite his personal feelings on the matter.

Family and loyalty and ideology were very important things to Javier Escuella.

But that was why Arthur was so very angry with him. Because the former two values hadn't meant shit to him in the end.

He had chosen an insane Dutch and a traitorous Micah over the people he'd claimed to care about.

So, at that moment he didn't have a very high opinion of Javier. But he needed him, as much as he loathed to admit it, to help find John and fend off the numerous wolves that he knew would attack them.

Noticing that he'd fallen slightly behind the Mexican, he took a few short breaths and ran to catch up.

_I wonder what happened to him after I died. Did Dutch disappoint him too? Well good riddance. He deserved it. To be betrayed by an ideology that he chose over me n’ John n’ Jack and everyone else._ He judged harshly, meaning every word.

Javier called out to Lenny as they approached him, explaining that they'd been sent out to find John.

Lenny eagerly unhitched Boaz and Arthur’s stallion. By the time they reached him, they were all ready to mount up and head out.

"Nice work kid." Javier complimented.

Lenny nodded.

"I'm gonna head inside and get warm. Maybe play a game of cards with Bill and Micah. I'll see you both later. I hope you find John." He said.

"I hope so too. He's gonna owe me for this. I have forgiven him n’ all, but John is still an idiot of the highest grade." Arthur snarked, not really meaning it.

Lenny laughed and walked away.

"Yes, he is, Brother. Now let's find him before he freezes to death." Javier said and chuckled.

He flicked his reins and they set off.

Arthur looked around as they got into the valley proper. He was trying to remember John’s exact location, but the only thing he could really recall was that it was quite far up north.

"So, brother, Micah told me that he saw John set off upriver. It shouldn't be too hard to track him. By the way, Micah was also complaining about you all morning. Apparently, you have some new "bullshit intuition", that gives you incredible insight. Maybe you'll find John without my help." Javier's joked, interrupting his thoughts.

Arthur gave him a veiled look.

"That's just Micah talking out of his ass. I ain't got some amazing new skill Javier. He's just mad that I was a better shot than him and stopped him from bullying Mrs Adler last night. Look…I jus' really wanna find John. Can we focus on that?" He said defensively.

"Sure, sure. Although, you and John...you seem to have forgiven him awfully quick. A few days ago, you were spitting venom at him, and refusing to give him the time of day over him leaving us for a year. Now, you seem focused on rescuing him as quickly as possible. What changed?" Javier asked. He sounded both puzzled and taken aback.

Arthur had to bite his cheek to stop a long-winded sigh from escaping. He'd have to think of a good enough explanation for his sudden change of heart.

_I changed. He changed. Then I travelled back in time to the damn start of it all. Yeah, I’ll tell him that._ Arthur thought in a deadpan tone.

“I did a lot of thinking during the ride here. I don't know what possessed me to do it, but I thought about damn near everything that bothered me about John: our time together under Dutch, his year off, his bad relationship with Abigail and Jack, and well- _our_ lack of a relationship. I realized, that heck, I still care about the lumbering fool. Somehow. He's pissed me off so many times, more than I can count. But I still care despite all that." Arthur explained, doing his best to seem introspective, but not too introspective.

"Wow. I mean no offence, but that's oddly deep for someone like you. I'm glad you've found a bit of peace in your relationship with John. It wasn't pleasant putting up with your incessant arguing all the time.” Javier paused and smiled. “I hope John gets the same fortitude as you and buries the hatch. Then the whole camp can finally be at ease, with its two biggest lunkheads having made peace." He said warmly.

Arthur couldn't help himself. He chuckled at Javier's commentary.

"Yeah, yeah, I hear you. Hosea said the same thing. If John doesn't want to make peace...well, he's gonna be in for an unpleasant surprise. And no offence taken by the way." He said.

"Oh, well it seems John Marston better watch out. Here comes Arthur Morgan with his big heart, ready to forgive him for all his sins. Whether he likes it or not." Javier teased.

"Now that's quite enough of that. Don't need to make me sound like some fucking softhearted fool." Arthur growled.

"I wasn't doing that brother. No need to be so touchy. Anyway, we should turn left here." Javier suddenly said.

Arthur re-focused. He'd gotten so caught up in talking about John, he'd forgotten that he was supposed to be looking for him.

They went left along the river and then up the mountain in pertinent silence, both he and Javier paying attention to their task rather than chatting.

Soon enough they found John's campsite, and then it all came flooding back to Arthur. It was just like knowing where the Adler homestead was. Something inside of him was pulling him towards Johns location.

But he still let Javier dismount and analyze everything to find the natural trail of John's horse. It would be too strange if he just stepped in and magically led them to Johns precise location, especially after he'd sworn to himself that he would try to lie low.

The trail was rather straight forward anyway, it was just up and up and then along some snowy cliffs. They headed off after Javier satisfied himself with whatever he'd found.

As they now had a good idea of where John was, it gave him an opportunity to breach the topics of the Blackwater ferry heist and what Javier thought of Dutch.

“So…what do you think of Dutch? After Blackwater, I mean.” Arthur gently but firmly inquired.

Javier shrugged.

“What do you mean?” He said.

“Do you feel differently about him? Not our beliefs, but well…the direction everything is going in?” Arthur narrowed his questioning.

“Well, not really. I don’t get what you’re hinting at brother. We- nothing has changed at all. As for Blackwater, that went south because of the Pinkertons. Dutch had nothing to do with it.” Javier said breezily, letting Dutch off too easily for Arthur’s liking.

“But what about the girl he shot- she was an innocent. You were there, you know how it went down. It was completely unlike him.” Arthur rallied.

"I dunno brother. She was a hostage- she just got caught up in everything. Dutch was going to let her go, but then the Pinkertons arrived. He panicked and shot her. Then we got away.” Javier said and frowned.

“Look, it just wasn't her fight. She shouldn’t have been there. Maybe Dutch could've avoided taking the shot, but plenty of others died on that ferry. So, don’t blame him for one death, even if it was an innocent. It doesn’t mean as much as you think it does. He’s still the same fine man as he’s always been. Okay?" He added a moment later, although he sounded slightly uneasy.

Arthur angrily opened his mouth, fully ready to snap at the Mexican, then shut it with a firm click and reined himself in. He wouldn’t take that approach. No, he needed to be more diplomatic.

And he was almost out of time. John was close.

“Javier…I get it. Dutch is still, well, Dutch. He’s a force of nature and someone we all look up to. But I’m worried about him. It just seems like he ain’t been himself recently. Maybe…it’s Micah.” Arthur suggested readily, and then shook his head forlornly.

He couldn’t understand what he was feeling. For some reason, when he talked about Dutch like that, it made him more sad than angry. His fury felt oddly dulled.

Dutch had always been rotten, even before Micah, so...

_Why do I-_ He started, only for Javier to disturb him.

“That piece of shit…I dunno- I mean, I can kinda get what you’re inferring. Micah is a rat. No question about that. But Dutch wouldn’t listen to him so readily, because he has you. This is confusing…wait, I remember now- it _was_ his idea. Micah’s, I mean.” Javier muttered, furrowing his brow.

“What do you mean?” Arthur asked, although he had a good idea.

“To shoot the girl. He suggested it and pressured Dutch to do it and everything. But it all happened so quickly, and then we had to flee, so I forgot.” Javier said and cocked his head in contemplation.

Arthur swallowed. He could see the end of the mountain trail, just where it led deeper into endless banks of snow. John’s dead horse would be there, and then the man himself would be slightly beyond it.

It was so close. He estimated that he had a minute with Javier, if even that.

“Javier, I’ll talk to you about this later. I was right about Micah. But we need to focus on John now. I have a feeling we’re almost there- to where he is.” Arthur rambled.

“Arthur…okay, you were partly right. But I still don’t think there’s anything wrong with Dutch. And Micah only influenced him once, albeit in a bad way. Let’s just, as you said, focus on John for now. I’ll talk to you later, if you want.” Javier said slowly.

Arthur nodded. They went ahead, and sure enough, found John’s dead horse.

He huffed nervously, heart beating wildly when he saw it. John was near, so very near. He’d soon see him again and would be able to patch things up with him.

Javier reached for his pistol, to signal John to their presence, but Arthur stopped him by putting up a hand. Javier raised his eyebrows questioningly at him, and his eyes widened when Arthur yelled John’s name at the top of his lungs and headed off in the direction where he knew he was.

“Brother- what are you doing? Where are you going?” Javier asked quickly.

A faraway voice, oh so familiar and oh so missed, weakly yelling for help stopped Arthur from replying.

Javier widened his eyes again and stared in the direction the yell had come from, but Arthur was oblivious.

John needed aid. That was all his brain could comprehend.

He spurred his horse forward before Javier could even blink and forced it through the thick snow as fast as he could.

"John! I'm coming! Keep shouting!" He called out, keeping it up as he went along the narrow cliff.

Behind him, Javier yelled his name, but he ignored him.

“Arthur!” John said his name. His voice was much louder. He was close.

"Brother! Arthur- you just took off. There's no need to be so hasty. Be more careful." Javier chided him as he finally caught up.

Arthur barely registered him.

Then the snow became too thick to ride through, so he hurriedly dismounted and kept going on foot. Javier quickly followed him.

"I'm almost there! Don't worry!" Arthur yelled.

"Is that- Arthur! You're- I'm here! On the cliff!" John returned.

Arthur didn't stop when Javier stopped to rest. He kept pushing on, despite the aching pain of his bones and muscles from his exertions.

He rounded a high corner, stumbled across a snowy outcrop, and then looked down, over a perilous drop, and-

"Arthur...you’re really here." John said gently and looked up at him, meeting his gaze keenly.

Arthur just stared. He couldn’t do anything else.

Although John’s face was covered in blood from his facial wounds- scratches from a pack of wolves, as well as dirt and his matted hair, through it all Arthur could see _surprised relief_ in his eyes. It seemed genuine.

Last time, John had grudgingly accepted his aid. But now his response was different, almost the opposite. He looked as if he couldn't believe he was there, as if he was actually _glad_ to see him.

Arthur pushed those feelings aside and inwardly shook himself. Now wasn’t the time for baseless speculation.

Climbing down and ignoring how his body screamed from the strain of it, he helped John stand up. The man stumbled and clung to him for support, blinking wildly all the while. His expression morphed into one of pure disbelief, then odd calm.

John regarded him warily.

“What’re you looking at Marston?” Arthur said seriously. John was worrying him.

“Is this…real?” John mumbled.

Arthur had to resist lightly slapping him to get him to snap out of it. It was just like John to get distracted at the worst possible moment. He’d forgotten that about him.

“Yes, it is. And don’t worry, Javier is coming. Our horses are nearby. We'll get you outta here, to someplace safe. We've set up camp in an old mining town a short ride away." He explained.

"That's- wait, _Javier_?" John questioned, sounding shocked. He also paled slightly, his eerie calmness vanishing completely.

"Yes, Javier. Did you hit your head John? If you did, I hope it don't make you too much dumber.” Arthur sniped. John’s behavior was beginning to get on his nerves.

"I just, uh-" John started, only to firmly shut his mouth when he looked up and saw a panting Javier approach them.

"Arthur! Why'd you take off like that- no time for that now, I guess. Hello John. It's good to see you. Bad scratches though. Miss Grimshaw and Abigail can fix you up when we get back to camp." Javier said slowly, recovering from his ramble through the snow.

"R-right. Abigail…is here. Not anywhere else." John mumbled strangely.

Arthur rolled his eyes and hauled John up to Javier. He seemed oddly apprehensive of the Mexican.

"No need to be so squeamish brother. I'm here to rescue you, not kill you." Javier joked lightly.

"Yeah. I guess I'm just dazed is all. Sorry." John apologised.

Javier firmly hoisted him up over his shoulder and then reached down to help Arthur with his spare hand.

Arthur gruffly thanked him and then grabbed it and climbed up, steadying himself with the cliff so that he wouldn’t fall backwards. Once he was all the way out, they set off back to their horses.

John was oddly quiet as they went, and he seemed to be avoiding Arthur’s gaze, looking at the ground than at him.

_"_ Hey, there’s no need to be so mopey. Look on the bright side. You're not gonna freeze or starve to death on this here mountain. We've rescued your sorry ass." Arthur said, trying to comfort him as best he could. As oddly as John was behaving, he couldn’t leave him to seemingly suffer in silence.

John blinked several times and then finally looked up, giving him a blank stare.

A moment passed as they locked eyes, and then John _smiled._

It was a sad little smile, one that wasn't like him at all.

"I missed you Arthur." He said, almost slurring the words.

"Yeah. You should. Especially as I've chosen to forgive you." Arthur told him.

John widened his eyes in surprise.

"Forgive me? For wh- oh, taking off for a year. Yeah, that was wrong of me. I should've stayed." He mumbled, his face falling.

Arthur recoiled slightly.

_He isn't acting like himself at all. Old John never would've said that. What's going on?_ He mused.

" _Did_ you hit your head John?" Arthur asked.

"What? No. At least, I don't think so. I'm just- tired. That's it. Tired. And delirious. From my injuries and starvation and whatever." John said, sounding as if he was making excuses for himself.

Arthur wanted to question him further, but rather suddenly, several wolf howls echoed around them. It was _that_ moment.

"Shit." He cursed under his breath.

They hurried on wordlessly until the horses came into view, but so did the wolves, on a distant crescent. They would be upon them any second now.

It pissed him off more than anything else. They were completely unnecessary.

"Javier, get to the horses. I'll deal with them." He said coldly and drew his revolver.

Javier nodded and started hurrying further ahead, while Arthur followed but kept to the right slightly.

The four or five wolves- it was five, growled and barked and started heading right for them.

Arthur seethed through his teeth. He aimed down the sights of his revolver and _focused._

 

The whole world went red for a moment.

Five shots rang out in unison, and despite the distance and the caliber of his weapon, all of them found their mark. In hearts and brains and other vital organs.

The small pack went down in one focused sweep, before any of them even could even yelp.

Arthur released a shaky breath. He'd killed plenty of wolves over the years, but never like _that._

 

In fact, he'd never done that before. Never.

Shaking his head before got too distracted, Arthur ran and joined John and Javier.

Leaping up onto his horse, Javier gave him a complimentary look, while John, who was behind him on Bauz, looked on in tired amazement.

"Well, well, well. It seems we have a future legendary gunslinger in our midst. I'd thought I'd learned everything. You need to give me a lesson sometime brother." Javier joked.

"Yeah, yeah. Let's just keep going before more of them show up." Arthur said dismissively.

The ride back was slow. It'd begun snowing again, thick and fast, so they had trouble following the road.

Arthur easily picked off the remaining wolves that tried to attack them as they rode.

John stayed quiet most of the time, with his face buried tiredly in Javier's back. He only raised his head a few times to give Arthur a couple of long looks, before going back to slumping.

It was only after Arthur had killed what seemed to be the last wolf, did he decide to carefully press forward and breach the silence to speak to John.

"Everyone is safe by the way. Not just Abigail, but Jack as well. Just n' case you cared enough about the kid to know." He informed him readily.

John's head snapped up. His gaze was wild and alert.

"Of course, I..." John swallowed thickly. "I should care. And I do. N-now at least. I thought about them- Jack and Abigail, as I lay dyin' on the mountain. Even if he ain't mine- I'm sure he is now, I should be there." He rambled.

"Do you now?" Ain't that rather sudden." Arthur countered rashly. John was acting so bizarrely, that he couldn’t help it.

John glared at him weakly, an expression that finally reminded Arthur of the old John he'd known.

"Woah, woah, brothers. Arthur, there’s no need to be so judgmental. You just forgave each other, so don’t start arguing again so soon. I think it's great that John finally wants to be a real father to Jack. The boy needs a padre. Heck, it seems the wolves knocked some damn sense into John aside from giving him some scars." Javier counselled them gently.

Arthur sighed and flicked his reins to force his horse to catch up to Javier, who'd drawn slightly ahead.

"I'm sorry Marston." He stated.

"Apology accepted Morgan." John concurred and went back to resting.

_He hasn't complained about his condition once. Last time, he was moaning all over the place enough to make me want to dump him. Now he's all quiet like._ He thought.

"See? Isn't it better to try and get along than argue incessantly?" Javier said genially.

Arthur nodded. He actually felt _grateful_ to him for clearing up their brimming argument.

"Truth be told, we need to thank you for that." Arthur gave credit where it was due.

"Heh. I'm quite the peacemaker, aren’t I? Although my fellow countrymen would beg to differ." Javier said and laughed.

"I'm sure they would. Hey, didn't you start a revolution? To overthrow a dictator or something?" Arthur asked.

"Well, I tried to. My dad, as drunk as he constantly was, raised me to be a revolutionary. But it all went south about five years ago- in 1894, the year before I joined the gang. Some of my family and most of my fellow revolutionaries got killed in an ambush by the regional government, and then I stupidly killed some retired military man over a woman. That made me famous among my countrymen, but I didn’t really change the system to be honest with you. Anyways, I managed to get away, went north, got over the border and never looked back. Then I fell in with Dutch and the rest you now. He saved me, gave my life purpose.” Javier explained wistfully.

_So, you're just like me Javier. You was raised by someone who used you. Only you went from escaping one ideological nut job, to immediately being drawn in by another. If I could kill Dutch right now I would, but all of you would gun me down without even bothering to ask why._ Arthur thought, the strange sadness from earlier returning in full force. But he took a deep breath and buried it deep down.

"So, for a while you was a rebel without a cause. Right?" Arthur joked brashly, trying to move on.

Javier laughed earnestly.

"Yes, I was. Very succinct way of putting it Arthur. I like it. In fact, when you think about it, now we're both rebels _with_ a cause." He said.

"Yeah. We are. Outlaws for life." Arthur lied and smiled, not meaning the words one bit.

"Can you two please pipe down?" John suddenly requested. He'd raised his head and was glaring at them both in extreme irritation.

"Usually, you're the one being as loud as a woman Marston. All the damn time. But don't snap at us- I’ll respect your wishes." Arthur said.

"’I feel like shit Morgan’. There, I complained. You happy?" John snarked.

"Yes. Very happy. Now try to get some rest. I don't want you collapsing on us. Being as useless as you is." Arthur countered.

"I won't be useless for very much longer. I won't allow it. I must look after my family. Each and every one of them." John said determinedly, as if it was a promise he meant.

Arthur blinked. He sounded like-

Javier’s rich laughter disturbed their argument.

"Oh. This is great. You two actually enjoy arguing, don't you? Like little kids. By the way, Coulter is right ahead. We should be there in a few minutes." He informed them.

John and Arthur stared at one another for a moment and then looked away.

The rest of the ride back was quiet as Arthur tried to make stock of everything that had happened that day. His reunion with John hadn't gone as he'd expected.

Actually, Arthur didn't know what he'd exactly expected.

_Seeing John again...it weren’t easy. If I wanna be honest with myself, I should’ve been more guarded, more gruff. But I couldn’t…not to John. It’s gonna be hard to keep myself in line around him._ He thought grimly.

Soon enough, they arrived back at camp, and as Javier leapt off Boaz and started yelling to alert everyone to their arrival, John gave Arthur a final lingering look.

Arthur met his gaze head on.

John opened and closed his mouth, then shook his head and adverted his eyes.

"Come on Marston. Let me help you down." Arthur said and quickly glanced at the main hut. Several people were coming out, he could make out Abigail among them.

Getting off his horse, he went over to Boaz and helped John down, being mindful of his injured leg.

"Oh, you're alive! You're alive!" Abigail yelled happily and ran to them, pushing Javier aside on the way.

"Abigail..." John said her name reverently and tried to rush to meet her, only stopped by Arthur carefully holding him back. He didn’t want him to fall and hurt himself even more with his sudden lovelorn recklessness.

Unfortunately, this made him unprepared for when Abigail tripped about a meter away from them. He couldn’t react fast enough because he was holding onto John.

"Oof." Abigail huffed as she went sprawling forward, but she rallied and clung onto Johns conveniently outstretched left arm, pulling herself up and quickly using Arthur's body to steady herself.

John laughed and hugged her close, almost knocking Arthur over in the process.

But Arthur himself countered by using both John and Abigail as leverage to keep himself upright.

This resulted in him awkwardly joining them in their fraught embrace for a few moments, before both of them simultaneously realised his presence and hurriedly untangled themselves from him and stepped back.

John coughed out of embarrassment and Abigail blushed lightly, before they both recovered and looked at each other and smiled.

"I ain't never leaving you again Abigail. You, or Jack. I promise. I realised...on that mountain, how much you both mean to me." John stated.

"John, I'm so glad to hear that. Jack'll be too." Abigail said, sounding slightly confused.

Arthur huffed in exertion. Their reunion was nice and touching and all, but It was taking all his damn strength to keep John propped up. He was extremely glad when Javier and Hosea came and relieved him of his burden.

"Thank you again Arthur, for everything. I'll try to be less...pissy in the coming days." John said, nodding at him as he was led away.

"Thank you, Arthur. You saved him. My John." Abigail said and smiled warmly at him, before running to help her husband.

"Come on everyone. It's a miracle that John is all right, but it’s time to get back to business." Dutch said and waved them all away, leaving them alone together.

"Arthur, because of the snow storm, it’s likely that you won’t be able to hunt today after all. Now, I've helped Pearson carefully ration what remaining food we have for tonight and we should have just enough for everyone. But you'll need to wake up early tomorrow and go hunting with Charles for some game, and then maybe you can help me with some scouting-to look for O'Driscolls." Dutch said.

"Sure. Where do you want me now? I can help John?” Arthur offered. He wanted to spend more time with him, so he could try and figure out what was going on.

“No, let Abigail and Hosea handle him. I think Miss Grimshaw and Mr Pearson need help indoors. Go and see them if you want to do something. I know it’s menial stuff, but it’s all that’s available if you really want to help. And If they don’t...well Arthur, I’m afraid that you’ll have to keep yourself entertained. We can’t do anything in a storm like this. Maybe you can play cards or dominoes with someone? Dutch suggested.

“Right. I’ll see if they need anything.” Arthur mumbled and left to go and find Miss Grimshaw.

His mind was racing, going over and over the events of that day and all his interactions with John.

It occupied him as he silently helped Miss Grimshaw clean the huts, and after most of the storm had blown over, helped Pearson prepare, and then serve dinner to everyone. Before he’d have considered such work as beneath him, but he wanted to be kept busy than sit around doing nothing.

Either he wasn’t smart enough or it was all beyond his understanding anyway, but he couldn’t understand it.

Why John was behaving the way he was.

It made him feel frustrated beyond all belief.

He finished helping Pearson and then went to his room, so he could be alone.

Sitting on his bed, Arthur sighed.

He needed....to vent.

So, he got out his journal and started writing. At one point he froze completely still, staring blankly at the impossible thing he'd just written.

Then he laughed bitterly, crossed it out, and finished scribbling.

Putting it away, he got up and went to find Lenny.

And if he could, some booze.

* * *

 

May ?? 1899 Coulter. 

_I feel goddamn useless. About everything. I can’t even begin to think of what I’m gonna do to change things. Convince Dutch n’ John n’ everyone else to take a different path._

 

_I don’t even know what's going on. How I got here-back to freezing Coulter at the start of it all. I should be in hell, or heaven if the almighty God pitied me enough. Not in some strange other place._

 

_And John...I have no fucking clue. He ain't himself that's for sure, but he also ain't not himself. If that makes sense._

 

_Unlike before, He cares about Abigail and Jack. Actually, wants to be a father to him n’ all._

 

_I think he cares about me as well. Somehow._

 

_~~What if he's like me~~ _

 

_No chance of that. John was alive when I died. He musta got away._

 

_He wouldn't have died that easy._

* * *

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Howzat?
> 
> DW, I won't milk this too much :)
> 
> Jus' for a lil ironic humour and drama...
> 
> Oh, and please leave a kudos if you haven't yet, and comment. The more people telling me how great I am, the faster I'll update. I promise! I wouldn't lie to you guys...
> 
> Next ch hopefully in 7-8 days.


	3. The Tangled Web

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the late update, but Xmas turned out to be far busier than I anticipated -.- on a "bunch of unannounced family friends turning up at various points" level. Was fun. 
> 
> Also, I've been having internet issues. I wanted to upload this last night, on New Year's, and as I was loading Ao3, it went down -.- It stayed down until about an hour or so before posting this. Yay. And it's been s%&t otherwise. 
> 
> Will probably go over this chapter again at some point, but wanted it up before the internet went down again.
> 
> Sorry to rant. But it helps. Have this late New Year's gift everyone ;P
> 
> Happy NEW YEAR!!

The next day, Arthur was woken up by a sharp, rapping knock on his door.

It was incredibly loud and echoed around his still bleary mind, forcing him into alertness.

Groaning, he raised his head and made himself sit up. Unlike the first night, this time he'd at least remembered to take off his coat before getting under the covers. Maybe he'd finally get down to small-clothes that evening.

Then there was a second knock, and it was just as bad as the first.

Arthur cursed under his breath.

"M' coming. Just lemme get decent." He yelled ferociously, almost growling.

"Mr Morgan! Do not take that tone with me! I just came to wake you up. There's food in the main hut. Or well...what's left of it. Dutch says you need to go hunting with Charles, and it’s late enough already. So, get up and get on it." Miss Grimshaw shouted shrilly, making him pay for his mistake, and then she huffed and turned on her heel, leaving him on his own.

Arthur groaned again and fought the intense urge to curl up and go back to sleep.

 _What did I do last night? I met up with Lenny after...something. He'd found some whiskey somehow, in our leftover supplies. Not much, but jus' enough to get us both sorta drunk. Not even properly drunk. At first, I didn't want to drink. But Lenny said something about regret or something equally stupid, and then I gave in. Then we annoyed someone...Micah? No, it was The reverend. That's right. And I wanted to see John, but in the end I didn't. For some reason._ He thought and wracked his brains to try to recall the previous evening.

* * *

 

_They stumbled through camp, having just drank the entirety of what little alcohol Lenny had found._

 

_It was still snowing thickly outside, and it was cold as fuck._

 

_But with the spirits coursing through their bodies, thoroughly warming them up in the process, they didn’t care one bit._

 

_Eventually, they ended up just outside Pearson's supply area. The chef had long ago gone inside to sleep, so no one was there._

 

_"Hey Arthur! Got any ideas? We have no booze left. I'd thought we'd have found some more by now. Didn't think beyond that." Lenny muttered and leaned heavily against the supply table, almost knocking it over. He hurriedly withdrew and dusted himself off, before leaning on the wall next to it instead._

 

_"I dunno...maybe go n' see Marston?" Arthur said lowly and stopped as well. Even though he was drunk and his head was spinning, he was still fixated on trying to make sense of John’s strange behavior towards him._

 

_Through his fuzzy vision, he saw Lenny frown._

 

_"Why? Ain't he mad at you?" Lenny questioned._

 

_"Naw. We was bickering- but we got both our heads outta our asses and made up. John n' I are tight now. He saved my life, and I saved his." Arthur said somberly, remembering all that John had done for him._

 

_"I know you went and saved his ass. But when did he save yours? Can't remember. Sorry." Lenny mumbled, looking apologetic._

 

_"Eh. I forget when it was exactly. I think it was when he were barely more than a boy. Maybe I'm just tired...it seems so long ago, when we was family. Proper family." Arthur lied quickly, vaguely remembering his promise to himself to lie low and that he had almost fucked up just then._

 

_"So, it was before my time. I only been a part of this gang…for about three years now. I ain’t even seen John all that much before he left in 97’, but I remember that you was both arguing all the time. About pretty much damn everything." Lenny said casually._

 

_"Yup. It may have been before your time, but you are family as well Lenny. We all are. One big happy family. Dutch's gang. As for John and me, well, we are brothers again. Or summat like that." Arthur informed him._

 

_"That's nice. But family...that makes me think o’ her. Jenny, I mean. I ain’t never got to tell her how crazy I was about her. I was tryin' to gather up the courage to, but I never could. Now, I can’t. She’s dead. Shit, now I'm remembering the ferry heist, and how we was running and she was shot down right in front of me." Lenny whispered sadly, even tearing up a little._

 

_Arthur felt slightly sheepish. The truth was, he'd forgotten just how close Lenny and Jenny had been. All the way back, during that first time they’d been stuck in Coulter, he’d comforted the poor boy, but there'd never been a moment like this, of Lenny threatening to cry in front of him._

 

_The old Arthur would've just stood there and told Lenny, gently but firmly, to pull himself together and stop it, and even bury his emotions._

 

_But he wasn't like that anymore. He could relate to the loss all too sharply now. Not the specifics, but the suddenness and hollowness of losing someone. It reminded him of Lenny's own death in St Denis._

 

_So, he sauntered over and put a reassuring hand on the boy’s shoulder and gave it a firm squeeze._

 

_"Hey, hey, don't cry. It ain't the time. Look forward, not back. You're alive. Remember Jenny as she was and hold that pain inside you. Let it push you on, if you can manage." Arthur advised, trying to find the right words and not sound too emotional._

 

_"Yeah. That sounds good. I wanna do that. She was always so bright and fierce...I don't wanna lose anyone else, Arthur. You, John, or Dutch- anyone. Even Uncle." Lenny said solemnly and wiped his eyes with a sleeve._

 

_"Well, personally, I think Uncle is up for debate. He's such a load that I don’t think anyone’d miss him all that much if he went." Arthur joked tersely, unsure if it was the right move._

 

_Lenny laughed softly and gave him a sad look. Then rather unexpectedly, he stepped forward and embraced him tightly for a few moments._

 

_Arthur blinked. He didn’t know what to do. Before he could even really react, Lenny was already gently pushing him away. He had a small smile on._

 

_"You’re so damn right. He is a useless waste. And um…thanks for the reassurance Arthur. I needed it. Now, what are we gonna do? I don't wanna sleep yet. I want to do something- I dunno what exactly. But something." Lenny said and scratched his head._

 

_"Annoy the reverend? He's probably still awake. He ain’t been sleeping normal for a while. It's probably because of the withdrawal from morphine or whatever sick stuff he gives himself." Arthur suggested randomly off the top of his head._

 

_Lenny smiled brightly._

 

_"Sounds good. He should be by the barracks- tends to wander if he can’t rest." He said._

 

_So, off they went, stumbling through the snow towards their destination. At some point, Lenny had started singing a bawdy popular tune, swallowing and slurring his words. Arthur had quickly joined in and done his best to accompany him._

 

_They'd found the Reverend exactly where Lenny had suggested he would be, sitting dejectedly outside the barracks and staring forlornly at the ground._

 

_Then they'd argued with him and traded barbs about his profession and lack of standing for a while, eventually the man had gotten sick of them and gone inside._

 

_Arthur had felt slightly guilty afterwards. The Reverend had comforted him before he'd left for New York a few days before the end but jibing with him had made Lenny so happy that he’d soon buried his worries._

 

_He could apologize to him the next time he saw him anyway._

 

_Then he and Lenny had parted ways and he'd stumbled to his own cabin, discarded his coat, and passed out in his bed._

 

* * *

 

Arthur blinked and cursed his drunken foolishness. He’d almost been stupid enough to reveal his secret in front of Lenny. It meant that he’d have to be more careful in future when he went drinking with anyone.

But at that moment, he didn't have time to deal with his slight hangover, or his reoccurring worries, because he had a far more important issue to focus on.

Chiefly, going hunting with Charles to get food for everyone.

 _Yes. Food’s scarce. And I hafta provide, or we’ll all starve up here. At least I’m going with Charles, someone with some damn sense._ Arthur thought sluggishly and yawned, then got up and went looking for his blue coat.

Finding it by the door, he pulled it on and then stumbled out.

It was a far clearer day than the one before. The sun was high in the sky, brightly illuminating the whole town. The only people he could see were Pearson and Charles together outside the old forge, and slightly further on, Strauss, who was taking a walk.

Charles waved to him.

"Hey Arthur! Please eat quickly! I'll meet you out here in ten minutes. We need to hunt, and as I can't use my bow due to my hand injury, I'll be going with you just to help you track game." He called out urgently.

"All right." Arthur yelled back. He didn't ask him if he wanted to rest instead of helping him, because there was no point. Charles Smith was a stubborn fool and wouldn't take no for an answer.

Moving on, he went into the main hut and found everyone in the same positions as the previous day, except that Hosea was nowhere to be seen and Molly and Dutch were sitting together instead. The former seemed slightly happier and was beaming as her lover said something to her.

Miss Grimshaw was warming some soup on the stove and gave him a nasty glare when he approached her for his meal. She'd just finished serving an oddly overjoyed Jack and a somewhat happy Abigail.

"I'm sorry Miss Grimshaw. My behaviour to you was uncalled for." Arthur apologised humbly.

"Humph. It was. But apology accepted. I'm used to it from you layabouts. Now, eat up and then go hunting. It’s the least you can do to make amends." Miss Grimshaw said sharply.

Arthur nodded meekly and looked around for a place to sit, only for Jack and Abigail to wave him over.

"Hey Uncle Arthur!" Jack yelled excitedly as he pulled up a chair and made himself comfortable.

"Shh Jack. No need to be so loud." Abigail chastised him.

"Aww. There's no need for that Abigail. It's great to see the kid so happy." Arthur said, smiling fondly at the boy he considered a nephew.

Jack _beamed_ at his words, making his own smile grow.

Abigail sighed exasperatedly.

"Please, Arthur. Don't encourage him. I ain't been able to get him quiet all morning." She complained.

"Sorry Mama, but I'm too excited." Jack exclaimed and giggled.

Abigail sighed again.

Arthur laughed, then gave her an understanding look.

"I'm sorry Abigail. I just ain’t seen such joy in a long time. Now Jack, it's best you listen to your ma from now on. But what has gotten you so excited?" He asked leisurely.

"My…John is going to tell me a story about dragons tonight! And knights and kings! He promised. Do you know what a dragon is Uncle Arthur?" Jack said readily, shying away from calling John his father.

Arthur blinked.

"I believe I do. It’s some sorta scaly animal. It can fly" He said slowly, vaguely recalling some dime novel he'd read a long time ago, and promptly forgotten because it'd been so bad.

"That's right. Though I wonder if there’s anything like flying bears in the stories. A flying bear! Can you imagine that momma?" Jack asked Abigail, who shook her head.

"I thought- Abigail, isn't John injured? What's he doing telling stories all of a sudden?" Arthur inquired, feeling genuinely confused. It was very odd that John was behaving that way.

"I don't know Arthur. I brought Jack to see him this morning- because after last night, I want them to be properly close, like father and son- and John went all still and quiet when he saw him. I even thought he was gonna cry for a moment. It was something in his eyes. As for Jack...well he weren't too keen on his Pa at first. Then John suddenly started going on about ‘stories he'd heard while away’ and got him all riled up when he started mentioning knights and dragons and other things. I don't get it." She said and shook her head.

"Don't get what, Momma?" Jack said before Arthur could say anything.

"Oh, nothing son. It's all grown up talk. I just didn't expect John to suddenly become so fatherly. Now, why don't you tell Arthur about the king? The one yer pa spoke about." Abigail said kindly.

"Oh! Uncle Arthur, guess what the name of the king is? In the story." Jack teased.

"I have no idea Jack. Why don't you tell me?" Arthur said, playing along.

"It's Arthur! King Arthur." Jack said and giggled.

"Well, ain't that a wonder. I bet no one else can boast about that, being named after a king.” Arthur said cheerfully, genuinely amused by the boy’s joy.

Jack laughed again. Arthur flashed Abigail a warm smile.

"Abigail, I think John is all right. It's probably just the shock of almost dying. Going through that…it changes you." He assured her.

Abigail folded her hands on her lap and fidgeted nervously.

"If you say so Arthur. It's jus'- I have a bad feeling about all this. Don’t take me too seriously, but John seems different. Real different. A woman notices these things, and to me it ain’t just a ‘near death’ thing. Even so, I was wondering…could you spend some time with him today? Try n' keep an eye on him." She requested suddenly.

"Sure. Actually, why don’t I just listen to his story tonight? I can learn all about King Arthur as well. How about that Jack? Is it okay for your uncle Arthur to come along?" Arthur suggested gently. Abigail was worrying him.

"Yes! He’s- John is much nicer than before, Uncle Arthur. You'll love it." Jack yelled, clearly thrilled.

‘ _John is much nicer than before’. Hmm, what could that mean?_ Arthur reflected, though a sick feeling in his stomach told him that he knew well enough what it meant.

But that was impossible, so he shook his head and dismissed the ridiculous notion.

Then he looked down and realized that he hadn’t even touched his soup, because he’d been so caught up chatting. It was now lukewarm.

Mentally kicking himself, he quickly started slurping it down, spending the next few minutes eating rather than talking. This allowed Jack free reign over his mother, an opportunity which he used to pester her with questions about stories she’d heard whilst growing up.

He felt sorry for her, but he was in a hurry, so he didn’t have time to stop and reprimand the boy.

“I'll see you tonight Jack. Abigail, have a nice day." He said quickly and tipped his hat in a respectful farewell. Getting up, he gave his plate to a scowling Miss Grimshaw, and then hurried out of the main hut.

In his rush, he did not catch the worried look Abigail gave him as he left.

Arthur went straight to Charles, who greeted him with one of his stoic, but still effortlessly cheerful smiles.

"Ready Arthur? I’ve saddled the horses. They’re both rearing to go." Charles quipped.

"As ready as I'll ever be. Now, for hunting, you want me to use a bow, right? For cleaner kills." Arthur replied.

"Yeah. You okay with that? You've complained in the past about having difficulty with using one. I'd go hunting alone, but, well..." Charles said, gesturing to his burnt hand.

They began walking to Taima and his stallion.

"I'll be fine Charles. I'll admit, Bows ain't my preferred weapon overall. But for hunting, I agree that they are the best." Arthur said brightly, recalling all the times he'd hunted animals with the bow Charles had given him. And now, rather ironically, he was receiving it again.

Afterwards, he'd used no other weapon to hunt unless he'd come across a particularly fierce creature, like a bear. Then, he'd gotten out his shotgun.

Charles widened his eyes at him as they mounted up.

"Well, ain't that a wonder." He remarked to himself as they set off, too low for Arthur to hear.

"I take it Pearson wants some big game. I think we should ride downriver and try our luck on the open fields down there." Arthur said conversationally.

"Oh, right. Yes. Pearson didn’t specify anything in particular- he has no idea about what's exactly out here to hunt. He knows more about the sea anyway, according to his so-called ‘glorious’ navy days. But we should be able to find some deer or bucks. Now that the storms have subsided, they'll need to go out to feed." Charles informed him.

Arthur nodded sagely.

"Yup. We're the real hunters, unlike that fat pile. Should be easy." He joked.

Charles laughed lightly.

"’Real men’. Yes, we are. Although, we don't know how to properly cook. Pearson does wonders with herbs and whatever. I'd just roast it on a spit until it looks decent." He confessed.

"Same here. Although I've learned a thing or two over the years, ( _more like the past few months._ He snarked to himself) about seasoning and such. I'm probably a better cook than you are." Arthur boasted.

"Sure, sure. I'll believe it when I see it." Charles said dismissively.

"Maybe I'll show you some day." Arthur countered.

"Maybe you will, ‘someday’. That sounds like a challenge. Anyways, you must miss Boadicea. Have you named your horse yet?" Charles inquired.

"No. Although I'm tryin' to think of a good one. It’s difficult, since I ain’t had a boy in a while. And I do miss Boadicea. She was a good horse." Arthur said.

"Yeah, she was. As for your current horse, it’s odd that you haven’t named him yet. Usually you name them pretty quickly. Unless, you're not thinking of keeping him?" Charles said casually.

"Yeah m' not. He ain't the best o’ horse’s truth be told, a little too lean for my liking. I'll find him a good owner when we head east. But for names...how about Jimmy?" Arthur suggested randomly.

"Jimmy?" Charles said incredulously.

"What's wrong with it?" Arthur countered defensively.

"Nothing. It's a fine name. Albeit a simple one." Charles said, trying to hide a snicker.

"Well, I'm a simple man Charles Smith. So, Jimmy it is. Jimmy the horse." Arthur stated with finality.

Charles laughed out loud.

Arthur shook his head and looked away. The river was just curving into open forest. They were almost to their destination.

He slowed the newly christened Jimmy down and dismounted. Charles quickly followed suit and got off Taima.

"This is a good spot, right?" Arthur asked, vaguely remembering it as the place they'd stopped last time.

"It is. There’s also plenty of grass, so there should be some game here. And we're lucky that the wind is blowing at us. It means our scent won't alert any animals to our presence. Look! You can see deer tracks in the snow." Charles whispered, pointing them out and then crouching low. “Let's follow them and find dinner.”

Arthur grabbed some arrows from Taima's saddle and placed them in his belt, before crouching and following him, taking care to not make any noise and keeping his gaze trained on the landscape for any signs of life, even birds. It wouldn’t hurt to bring back some extra fowl if he could shoot some down.

Unfortunately, they didn’t come across any as they went.

Moving on, it took them a few minutes to get through the trees and into a wide clearing, where luckily enough, there were two deer in the distance; two does, one quite large one, and a much smaller one.

Thankfully, they hadn't spooked them with their initial arrival. But as they stopped to gather their breath, the larger of the two raised its head and started looking around, ears twitching wildly.

"Now Arthur!" Charles seethed through his teeth, beckoning him to take aim.

Arthur nodded, got out his bow and grabbed an arrow from the few he'd put in his belt. Then in one smooth movement, he notched it and drew the string back, carefully aiming at the larger doe.

Watching it for a moment, he judged where a major artery would be, and then fired at the unfortunate animal.

His arrow struck straight and true. The deer went down without much trouble, bleeding out and dying quickly before it suffered too much.

The smaller deer barked shrilly and attempted to flee. But Arthur was ready for it.

He'd focused himself and had already drawn another arrow the very second after the first had left his bow.

The smaller doe didn't get far. It fell a few seconds after the first.

Arthur put his bow away and stood up.

"Come on Charles. I’ll get the bigger one." He said gruffly and made his way to his prize.

Bending down, Arthur hoisted the big doe over his right shoulder while Charles went slightly further ahead and got the smaller one. He was oddly quiet and turned to him with a questioning look after they’d finished.

"Well...that was quite a surprise. I don’t think I’ve ever seen you use a bow as skillfully as that before. Have you been practicing in your spare time, Arthur?" Charles inquired as they started making their way back to their horses.

Arthur swallowed.

 _I haven’t thought things through and revealed too much. Again._ He thought, feeling somewhat nervous. Unlike Javier, Charles was far more astute. Therefore, he felt it’d be far harder to excuse his strange behavior around him.

"Don’t be so surprised. I did my fair share of hunting before you joined the gang Charles and used the bow a coupla’ times. I still dislike it though. It don’t feel comfortable, like with a gun." He lied evenly.

"Huh. Well I guess I don't know you as well as I thought I did. Nothing against you, Arthur. I just didn't know you were _that_ skilled. You might even put me to shame." Charles said genially.

"Naw. Don't say that. You're a pretty good shot yourself Charles." Arthur defended him.

Charles laughed.

"No need to pretend to be humble, my friend. Maybe after we’re out of these mountains, we should have a competition to see who's the better shot and get some more food for the camp in the process. How about it?" He suggested.

"Sure. Sounds like fun. I'll beat you of course." Arthur accepted leisurely, letting himself relax. He had a strange feeling that he could always count on Charles to be there for him.

"Oh, there's the Arthur I know. Don't worry, you won't." Charles countered easily.

Arthur laughed lightly and picked up the pace.

They soon reached Taima and Jimmy, and carefully tied their prizes onto their backs.

Arthur paused for a moment as Charles got onto Taima, holding Jimmy's reigns stiffly as a sobering realisation hit him.

 _Charles still believes in Dutch._ He thought demurely.

"Charles, can I talk to you bout' something?" He asked his friend as he finally mounted up.

Charles blinked in surprise.

"Sure." He said minutely and kicked Taima off into a trot.

Arthur followed suit and took a deep breath.

"It's well...I was thinking about Dutch n' Micah. Well, more about Dutch really. Ever since Blackwater, I've started having some real doubts about him. Not in his leadership, but something seems off. I- I think it’s Micah. I’ve talked to Javier about this as well.” He admitted, doing his very best to sound unsure and uncertain.

"Arthur, you should have more faith. It's _Dutch_. He always delivers. The ferry heist did go a bit south in the end, but that was only because the damn Pinkertons showed up. As for Micah, well, he is a fucking scumbag, but he isn’t an issue. We're gonna be okay. We just have to move on and rebuild." Charles assured him, downplaying his doubt and complaints.

Both of them eased their horses into a canter.

"I guess...but the girl. The damn girl. She- it just don't seem right to me. Why would Dutch shoot her? For what good reason is there? And Charles, please don' take this the wrong way, but I _know_ him. Dutch is a dreamer through n' through. I’m worried he's gonna look for the next big heist _now._ Try and cook something up in spite of our situation." Arthur argued, feeling useless.

"The girl- okay, I'll admit that I'm a little shocked by that as well. It doesn't seem like him. But it was probably just a mistake. Think, why else would he shoot her? For pleasure? No. It was just a mistake- a miscalculated move on his part. As for our next heist...I somewhat agree. We should lie low, but not completely low. The gang needs money to survive, so we need to pull something off. At least in the short-term, before we can go back to Blackwater and get the bulk of our cash. It's a lot. Maybe even enough to retire from." Charles said casually.

Arthur shut his eyes and sighed lowly.

It was painful. Seeing just how highly the whole gang had revered Dutch in the past, enough to makes copious excuses for him, especially for his more dubious actions, and with knowing the terrible future that'd happen if he didn't change things, made him want to inwardly scream out of frustration.

 _We were all so damn naïve and trusting. And I was the worst._ He thought bitterly.

"All right Charles. Maybe it was a genuine mistake. But otherwise, I really do think Dutch will want to do something stupidly big before we've even left the mountains. He'll find somethin'. And if he does, can you help me try to talk him out of it? If we even can? We got enough heat on us. We don't need more." Arthur stated blithely.

Charles was quiet for a solid minute, head lowered in deep reflection as he seriously contemplated his words.

Arthur was thankful. Unlike Bill, Javier, even Lenny, and especially freaking Micah, Charles, after probably only Hosea, had always been one of the more rational men in the gang.

"If you hadn’t confided in me with your own worries, I wouldn't have even considered doubting Dutch at all. I shouldn't- it's not good to doubt a leader. Especially Dutch. He's been so good to me. To you, as well. But as much as I may want to, I can't ignore the issue. Because you're right Arthur. This isn't the time for another big heist. So, I'll do it. I'll back you up. But only if Dutch finds something really crazy- some huge heist somehow." Charles promised uneasily.

"Thank you. It means a lot to me. And if you could keep this to yourself- jus' for now. I know it ain’t good, but Dutch would go sideways if he found out. Hosea has the same thoughts, and I'm also thinkin' of speaking to Lenny as well. Javier and Bill and Micah-they won't wanna doubt Dutch or go against him at all. John might, and the ladies as well." Arthur outlined, thinking carefully about it.

"Huh. You're really considering this. I hope you're not going to challenge Dutch for his leadership." Charles opined.

"No, no. Never. I love Dutch, but I also love this gang. I just think that we need to be smarter bout' things at the moment." Arthur hurriedly assured him. He didn’t want his friend to get the wrong idea.

Charles nodded.

"I understand that. But Dutch might not, or some of the others." He warned.

"Yeah. But I'm not gunning to lead the gang Charles. I jus' wanna make sure we don't rush into the next job too quick." Arthur replied.

"Okay. And Arthur, I'll keep this to myself for now." Charles said.

"Thank you, friend." Arthur said genuinely.

 _I've finally achieved somethin', a first step to changing things. Hopefully I can get Lenny on board and change Dutch's mind about the train heist if enough people are against it. Somehow. Then I'll finally have a chance to breathe and time to plan things out without having to worry about everyone’s survival. The next issue is how I’m gonna tackle the damn Pinkertons...Now, I hope I don't need to answer any more questions about my "new skills". It's getting real tiring._ He thought blearily, stifling a yawn. He really hadn't slept at all well the night before.

"Now, why don't you tell me about how you became so proficient with a bow? I just remembered, I've never seen you with one. If ever…at least, not for a long while. Did you borrow one from someone? Or buy one? I can’t believe that you’d make one- that you’d have the skill or the patience to do it." Charles teased genially.

Arthur groaned inwardly.

For the rest of the ride back to Coulter, he pacified Charles with a few hunting stories of how he'd amazingly used the bow when away from camp, and how he'd lost his last one by accidentally dropping it down a ravine whilst hunting cougars. He hoped it was a plausible enough cover, since it was close to the truth as he’d had a similar experience in eastern New Hanover. Minus losing the bow of course.

"I got startled by a loud roar- a bear, and the next thing I know my bow is gone and I'm reaching for my shotgun. I just acted without thinking. I sold that bear's mauled skin for a tidy enough profit, but I didn't have enough time to buy another bow in the small town I was in, because someone recognized me. And I simply forgot all bout' it- it was just before Blackwater" Arthur said, just as Coulter came into view.

Charles laughed.

"Typical Arthur. Well, feel free to have my bow. You'll be using it plenty enough in the next few days anyway. I can always make another one pretty easily." He stated.

"You sure? Well, if you are, it's real nice of you to give it to me." Arthur thanked him and smiled.

"I'm sure. Now, we'd better get these to Pearson." Charles said and motioned to their prizes with a wry smirk as they rode into town.

Trotting to the outpost next to Pearson's supply table, they hitched up Jimmy and Taima and took the deer down.

"Finally! I can get busy. I've been freezing my ass off out here, waiting for you." Pearson declared jubilantly upon seeing them.

"Yeah, yeah. We did the real work." Arthur said and waved him off.

Pearson scowled at him, but his eyes flashed with mirth as he took the carcasses from them one by one and hung them up on some hooks next to the table.

"Arthur, Dutch asked me to direct you to him when you came back. He went to check on John. He's got some more _real work_ for you to do, to keep you _real busy_. So, chop, chop. Charles, can you please help me prepare the deer?" Pearson said gregariously, the left corner of his mouth quirking up.

"Sure. I'll see you around Arthur." Charles said and nodded goodbye.

"Right. Imma go find Dutch." Arthur stated and walked away.

Entering John's hut, he was taken aback by what he found there; Dutch was exchanging harsh whispers with the invalid, in what was clearly a big argument over something. Their voices were too low for him to make anything specific out.

Both of them were so preoccupied, that neither of them even registered his arrival.

He cleared his throat to get their attention and both men stopped and turned to him, allowing him to catch their unguarded facial expressions.

Dutch didn't look too pleased. His mouth was tight and his gaze was pointed, an expression that quickly morphed into a big smile when he saw it was him.

John, however, had a face of thunder, but an oddly stricken look flashed across his countenance when he set eyes on him, before he seemingly composed himself and went back to his customary somberness.

“Hey Arthur.” He greeted him minutely.

“Hey John.” Arthur returned warmly.

"Hello son. I hope you’ve been busy, getting us some food." Dutch said, having held back to let them greet each other first.

"Yup. Charles and I, we got some fine game for the gang." Arthur informed him.

"Good. With so many mouths to feed, the food at Mrs Adler's house only got us so far. I hope we don’t got any more starving waifs coming our way. Now Arthur, I want you to go scouting with Bill this afternoon. Just the general area and surroundings. Nothing more. We know there are some O'Driscolls out here, and it's best we find them before they find us." Dutch said genially.

Arthur froze.

Last time, someone else had gone scouting with Bill. He hadn't been asked to do it. Somehow, something had changed the sequence of events.

"If you don't need me here...sure, I'll go. I'll find them O'Driscolls Dutch. Lemme just talk to John for a minute- about Jack." He hurriedly requested, out of a desire to get some time to think than anything else.

John blinked up at him in surprise. He hadn’t expected it.

"Jackie? Of all things…it’s nothing. I'll see you later Arthur. By the way, you're doing good son. I’ve been hearing a lot of positive things about you, and I’m very proud. And thanks for agreeing to go with Bill...and well, everything else." Dutch said, sounding genuinely grateful.

He nodded at them both and then left, leaving him and John alone.

Arthur watched him go and then turned to John with a light smile. The other man still seemed somewhat stunned by his presence, and Arthur swore that he flinched slightly when he approached him and drew up a chair.

"I jus' wanted to tell you that I’m gonna be accompanying Jack to story time this evening. So, you’d better make it a good one.” Arthur said, sitting down and making himself comfortable.

"Why? I thought that you weren't- well, you wouldn't want to spend your evening listening to me telling my son a story." John stated simply.

"Curiosity. And Jack was so excited bout' it, it made me want to hear it too. I also volunteered to watch you instead of Abigail. Yer such a grouch, I wanted to free her from having to put up with you for a while." Arthur joked.

"Ha ha. Well, if you really want to be there, you're welcome to come, I guess. Nothing I'll say will stop you anyway. Cos’ you're such a stubborn jackass." John taunted him pleasantly, and gave him a small, but happy smile.

 _Well, ain’t that a thing._ Arthur thought curiously.

"Don't I know it. Although, you’re the real stubborn jackass Marston. Always fooling around and shirking responsibilities when it suits you- like refusing to help around camp when it's your turn." He accused him, just as affably.

"I ain't gonna do that no more. Not that I ever did. I was always helpful. Just ask Miss Grimshaw. She'll vouch for me." John rallied. His smile grew.

"Oh, that old biddy won't. She can see right through you, all the way to your rotten core." Arthur scoffed.

"Well, if that's true, then she can see through you as well Arthur Morgan. She knows what a two-bit son of a bitch you are." John immediately countered.

“Then I guess we're both equally bad, huh'." Arthur said, trying to come across as mellow.

John snorted.

"Yeah right. Don't lie, Arthur. I know you. I'm not near as evil as you are." He said with false derision. Unfortunately, and probably unintentionally, the jibe hit home.

Arthur sobered up.

"Yeah. You're right. You have a family John. A chance to make it out of this life and not look back, if you really want." He said, then frowned, feeling as if he’d overlooked something again.

"Hey, no need to be so serious. God your mood shifts suddenly, Arthur. One minute you're all laughter and the next you're as sad as can be. Just loosen up. I ain't gonna leave this life- at least not yet. I need to do some things first." John said readily and sat up straighter.

"What kind of ‘things’?" Arthur reactively blurted out before he could stop himself.

He didn't know what was going on.

" _Thing_ things. Y'know, maybe- what If I had a...no, forget it. It ain't important." John mumbled and looked down, clasping his hands tightly on the bedspread, and hiding his expression from him.

“What ain’t important?” Arthur pressed.

“Look, as I said, just forget it. Just- stop being a nosey busybody Arthur. Try n’ move on and be happy about life, instead of making other people miserable.” John said defensively.

“I tried that. It doesn’t work. Not one bit” Arthur deadpanned, deciding to abandon his endeavor in favour of cheering John up.

John laughed and looked up. His smile was back, although it was more strained than before.

“Well then, try again. Seriously, you’re such a grump. Anyway, I missed this.” He declared softly.

“This?” Arthur questioned, not quite catching what he meant.

“Really, you- I mean talking to you, you thickheaded idiot. It feels like years, since we’ve had the chance to do this. Bantering and whatnot, without really meaning it.” John supplied for him.

“Ah, maybe it’s because it has been _years_ , dummy. We used to try n’ bite each other’s damn heads off, all the time. Several people have told me about how glad they are that we’ve stopped.” Arthur chastised him gently.

“Yeah, it has been years. Too many years. And now, here we are. Together once more, free to snipe and tease each other as much as we damn please. If only…things weren’t so complicated.” John said wistfully, his voice thick with it.

Something was up, Arthur’s instincts told him. Something familiar, terrible, and above all else, something he didn’t want to be true.

But he- he had to confront his fears. At some point.

 _I'd better leave. Now's not the time to go talking about Dutch, or anything else. I should have a chance tonight, after Jack’s story. For now, John needs rest. Being injured n' all._ Arthur excused himself, turning away from his wider fears. For now.

He cleared his throat, getting John’s attention and making him look up.

"It’s been more than a minute. So, I'd better get going. I'll see you tonight. But John, I have something real important I need to talk to you about later. After Jack’s story." Arthur said seriously.

"Okay. See you then Morgan." John said blandly, then grimaced. He was obviously upset by something.

Knowing him, he was probably either angry at himself, or _him_ , for one odd reason or another.

John was making no sense, at all. And he didn’t have the time or patience to deduce his motivations now.

So, he nodded and made a speedy exit, leaving the hut without looking back.

" _No way. There’s just no way it can be true. Because if it is, then...."_ Arthur trailed off internally as he shut the door behind him, shaking his head in desperate denial and hoping beyond hope that he was wrong.

He took a deep breath and concentrated on his priorities, choosing to focus on the task at hand than pointlessly despairing any longer.

You couldn’t change the past. Only the future.

It was time to go find Bill and go scouting.

* * *

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Howzat?
> 
> Sorry if not much plot, was placing land mines for future detonation :P
> 
> And as always, thanks for all the reviews and kudos :P
> 
> Plz leave moar It helps :))))))))


	4. Bill and Arthur's excellent adventure

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First things first, I’m so proud of myself for coming up with this chapter title. 
> 
> Also, I’ve decided to split this chapter into two part, with at least 2 weeks before the next part coming owing to mounting university work.. I’m doing this for several reason; 1) Ch length. This ballooned to well over 10k and the reason several of my past fics have died is because I got too overwhelmed by editing and having little time to edit vs writing, which started happening again with this fic. So, I’m going to try and balance my time better, esp with school work mounting up and such. I’ll probably revert during summer/holidays when I hopefully have more time to write.; and 2) Updating schedules. It’s already been over two weeks since the last chapter, and I really don’t want to keep it any longer than that between updates. I’m trying to discipline myself better as a writer and actually have a somewhat concrete schedule to follow through on. 
> 
> Therefore I apologise in advance if ch breaks seem a little awkward/poorly broken, as I am trying to adhere to this new format. I also plan to write more in the coming days than editing. 
> 
> To add to that, I’ve started become a somewhat more confident writer with having this to focus on, so I’ve…decided to try and upload an old fic I have on my drive, as well as continue it. 
> 
> It’s something I typed over summer, before Rdr2 came out and I have about 40k written up of it, and I plan to post it in short 2-3k bursts. And if it converges on my time for this fic, then I will drop it. Despite having YET another commitment, I’m trying to discipline myself here :P That goes above all else.
> 
> More on that at the end. Opening A/N is long enough.

 

* * *

On his way to the barracks, Arthur was waylaid, rather surprisingly, by Mary-Beth of all people.

She ran up to him just as he turned the corner from John’s cabin, looking very flustered and nervous, as if she’d been waiting around for a while.

“Mary-Beth?” He said her name gently, worried about her somewhat manic manner and appearance.

“Arthur…uh, I heard you’re going scouting with Bill. Dutch just came and told us-” Mary-Beth stopped quickly, pausing to lean against a ramshackle hut next to them so that she could reign her breathing in.

“I am. Is everything okay?” He asked sincerely.

“It is. I just…you and Bill, you’re going looking for O’Driscolls, right?” She said, finally recovering and standing up straighter to give him a serious look. Although she seemed oddly apprehensive about something.

“We are. Gotta find em’ before they find us after all.” He stated, purposefully echoing Dutch.

“Then- I don’t know why I’m telling you this, but I just have a strange feeling about all this Arthur. It- it ain’t a bad one. If you get me. It’s- It’s tough to explain. It’s like I’m waiting for something to happen, and it’s got me all antsy.” She suddenly rambled and looked away. Her tone was shy and withdrawn.

Arthur blinked. Usually when something bothered her, Mary-Beth became very introversive and quiet, but this time, it seemed different. She didn’t seem like herself. At all. Rather than bring up her odd behavior, he decided to go along with it. For her sake. She’d been such a comfort to him over the years, as a dear friend, that he owed her that much. And probably a lot more.

“Uh, okay. You think something’s gonna happen?” He said gently.

“Yes. I do. And I’m sorry to be all wishy-washy and getting in the way and such, but just be careful. I know it’s just O’Driscolls- but keep an eye out, for…anyone.” She said wanly, and instead of blushing, as she’d been wont to do in the past when getting shy around him, she frowned instead and looked down. Like she’d realized something unpleasant.

Arthur blinked again, then snorted lightly.

Something strange was going on and he didn’t like it one bit. He was getting a massive headache from all these deviations, especially people behaving differently from how they had before. It meant that there were more and more things to deal with, in addition to his already ever-present worries of the gang somehow catching on to him. He would also have a lot more to face when they got out of the mountains, such as the Pinkertons, planning for the gang’s failed heists and other activities, and most unwelcomingly of all, Micah and his propensity for betrayal.

His head spinning and aching from being presented with this new conundrum, he had to suppress the urge to reach up and rub it to ease the pain. Getting drunk last night, even if he’d just gotten a little bit tipsy, had definitely been a mistake. His slight hangover and general tiredness made his mental taxations a hundred times worse.

“I’ll be careful, Mary-Beth. And don’t worry, I’m going with Bill. Knowing him, I’m probably going to have to keep an eye on _him_ than watch out for any O’Driscolls. Mark my words, Bill Williamson _will_ try and do something incredibly stupid, thinking that he’s helping the gang somehow.” He snarked lightly, trying to reassure her.

Mary-Beth blinked and then looked up and smiled, emitting a small chuckle at his jibe.

“Yeah. That’d be a sight to see. Bill Williamson making a fool of himself, yet again. Oh, there’s just one more thing I wanted to talk to you about- Molly and the others. I’d just like to thank you for getting us to reach out to her and speak to her. I thought she was all uppity n’ such, but she’s actually sorta nice when you get to know her. She told us all about Ireland and how lively Dublin apparently is- although she was still kinda holding herself above us, but Tilly thinks she’ll get over it. Sorry Arthur, I don’t know why I’m telling you all this. I guess I feel sorta indebted to you. You were the one responsible for us talking after all. “She rambled happily, her smile growing.

Arthur smiled at her enthusiasm, feeling truly happy for her. He was also glad that he had been able to make one positive change so far, as small as it was.

“Say no more Mary-Beth. And there’s no need to apologise. I’m happy for you n’ the girls. Miss O’Shea always seemed to be by herself, suffering in silence if Dutch weren’t speaking to her, so I just wanted to see if I could ease her loneliness a little bit by getting her to talk to you n’ everyone else. It’s great that yer all getting along. And have no worries, I’m sure Miss O’Shea will be better about things pretty soon.” He said warmly.

“That’s so introspective of you Arthur. You care about everyone so much and you always make sure that we’re all okay. Thank you again, for everything you do. I’m sure you’re right about Molly, you always seem to have a lot of proper faith in people that you believe in. If she makes an effort to get real closer to us, I’ll make one too. Aside from that, I’d just like to say that it’s great to have you as a friend. You’re a true companion in these trying times.” She said seriously. Her brown eyes had a steely glint to them, as if she truly meant her words.

Arthur cocked his head. Maybe he could key her into his plans for the gang and changing Dutch’s mind about the train heist. It might be worth a shot.

“You’re a true friend as well Mary-Beth. In fact…” He trailed off uncertainly, still unsure of such a bold move.

Would she tell Dutch if he told her? Mary-Beth was no slouch when it came to crime and taking small roles in heists, so she would be well equipped to give her opinion on his doubts, but there were other reasons he felt that he couldn’t tell her yet. Chiefly, that she still held Dutch in high regards, and wholly believed in his beliefs and might feel it was her duty to share his fears with the other girls because she was so close to them. They gossiped about everything. And although she was easily just as rational as Charles was, maybe telling her wouldn’t achieve anything yet as she’d just downplay his fears and issues like he’d had.

His tired mind was really getting in the way of things, giving him useless doubts about someone he should trust implicitly.

He stared at the ground numbly, trying to make sense of it all.

What should he do? It was all so needlessly complicated. Judging how one person would react versus another-

“Hmm. Arthur, what is it?” Mary-Beth asked concernedly, disturbing his reverie.

Arthur quickly raised his head and met her curious expression with a small smile.

“It’s nothing Mary-Beth. I’ll talk to you later about it- in fact, I’ll probably talk to you n’ the girls together at some point. Just a heads up.” He said wanly, reeling from his momentary confidence.

Maybe telling them all at once would be better than telling them separately.

“Umm, okay then. I’ll see you around, I guess. I’d better go n’ see Tilly and Karen and the others. I’ll be waiting for…you to return with whatever you find- while scouting of course.” She said slowly and then nodded and walked away.

 _First John, and now Mary-Beth…who’s gonna be next? Will I really be able to deal with all of this on my own?_ Arthur mused as he turned away from her, still angry at his defeatism.

Shaking his head, he took a deep breath and finally made his way to the barracks.

He wanted see Bill and finish their scouting mission as quickly as possible. The sooner he got back, the sooner he could make stock of everything and make progress on his plans for Dutch.

Aside from that, he still had no idea why the course of events had changed without his input, and it was bothering him.

Shaking his head, he decided to move on than continue dwelling on his worries and fears. He had more prescient matters to attend to.

The fetid smell of rotting wood disturbed his train of thought, and he gagged slightly as he heaved the barrack’s heavy door open and walked inside.

Other than the problematic odor, the building was also cramped and rather dim. There was very little space to move around in and the lack of light meant you had to squint narrowly to make anything out. It made him glad that he had his own room.

He looked around, nothing where everyone was more out of habit than necessity.

 

Strauss was sitting on his bed reading a book, seemingly absorbed in it, but still graced him with a muted “Herr Morgan” without bothering to look up. Arthur solidly ignored him. He wanted to interact with the loathsome loan shark as little as possible.

Lenny was also reading a book, sitting by himself off to the right of the beds and resting his feet on another chair. Unlike Strauss, he looked up and gave him a bright smile in greeting.

Arthur returned it with a small nod and smile before moving on, remembering their morning drunken excursion with fondness. Despite the issues it’d caused him, he realized that he didn’t truly regret it after all. It’d made Lenny very happy and that was a huge plus all on its own.

Micah and Bill were the only other people present. They were playing cards in the center of the room, balancing them precariously on a small rickety table, absorbed enough in their game that they didn’t initially notice his arrival.

Micah was smirking at his cards with a pleased glint in his eyes, meaning that he obviously had a good hand, while Bill was scowling unpleasantly at his own, clearly pissed off at what was probably a shit hand.

"Ah. Hello Morgan. Here to grace us with your oh so distinguished presence and bullshit intuition." Micah suddenly snarked and looked up to give him a filthy smirk.

Arthur rolled his eyes.

"Hey Arthur." Bill grunted genially and briefly glanced up to give him a polite nod, before quickly re-focusing all his attention on his cards. He obviously didn’t want to lose.

"Hey Bill.” Arthur said loudly, solidly ignoring Micah’s taunt.

The other man noticed and briefly scowled at him, before his sneering veneer returned in full force.

He ignored that too.

“I’m sorry to disturb your game, but Bill and I need to go scouting. Dutch wants us to go look for them O'Driscoll boys." He added, keeping his voice carefully neutral.

“Now? I thought that was later. Just gimme a-“ Bill started slowly, only to be cut off by a harsh bark of laughter and a brash voice.

"Ah ha ha. That means I win the game by default. Of course, I was winning anyway, because Williamson is such a piss poor player. But it's good to not have to slog through a match anyway." Micah berated his opponent.

"I was just getting to it. No need to be such a fucking boast. But if Dutch wants me to go now, I'll go. It's better than having to put up with your ugly mug anyway Bell." Bill muttered lowly and slammed his cards down onto the table, with enough force that it almost knocked it over.

"Of course, it is. You're just sour that you lost and must be over the moon that Morgan here has given you a dignified exit. In spite of that, you still owe me money." Micah beckoned tersely.

Bill tensed, stood up quickly and clenched his hands into fists before stepping forward with purpose. He was readying himself for a fight.

Micah flashed him a threatening smile and copied his movements, looking far more relaxed and readier to brawl.

Arthur realized that he was getting exactly what he wanted; the chance to beat the shit out of another person for no reason.

He had to stop himself from rolling his eyes again.

"Come on you two. Bill, Micah ain't worth it. He's just pushing you so that he can have an excuse to beat you up. He's a petty fucking son of a bitch like that. Let's just get going and get our mission over with." Arthur stated seriously, thoroughly sick and tired of all the needless squabbling.

Somehow, rather miraculously, Bill actually listened to him for once. He closed his eyes and turned away from the source of his anger, breathing evenly and doing his best to calm down despite his usual volatile temper.

However, in complete contrast, Micah became enraged. His eyes narrowed into slits and he turned to Arthur with a murderous sneer, agitated that he’d been deprived of his churlish entertainment.

"What the fuck are you playing at Morgan? Yesterday, and now- it's a dangerous thing you is messing with." He seethed incoherently.

"Can't take what you dish out Bell? Whatever. I don't care. I've got stuff to do and you ain't a part of it." Arthur deadpanned. The poisonous traitor was worth nothing to him.

Micah let out a harsh breath, then lurched towards him rapidly and swung wildly at his face.

For a moment, Arthur was back on the hill he had died on, fighting Micah feebly at their final confrontation.

He’d been so very weak, too weak to properly defend himself. Now that wasn’t the case anymore, _he_ was the stronger one.

So, he reacted.

He caught Micah's arm without much effort and twisted it sharply sideways, making the other man cry out in pain, and then bodily shoved him away.

Micah was sent sprawling backwards, and barely avoided falling on his back by grabbing a nearby chair and righting himself at the last moment. Even then, he still flailed desperately for a few moments while he regained his proper balance, his eyes bulging in a very comedic fashion. Once he’d finally righted himself, he sent him a thunderous look of immense anger.

 _I'm stronger this time round’ Micah, and I ain't gonna let you fuck everything up again. As soon as I can, I'm gonna end you like the rat you are._ Arthur vowed silently, then blinked when he noticed that everyone was staring at him.

Bill, Lenny, and Strauss were all gawping at him in mute astonishment. Like they couldn’t believe what they’d just seen.

Arthur cleared his throat and glared at Micah.

"As I said, I don't care bout' you Bell. You don’t scare me one bit. Come on Bill." He said curtly and exited the cabin without looking back.

A few moments passed before Bill stumbled out after him, hurriedly adjusting his hat and buttoning up his coat.

"What the hell was that Arthur? I've never seen you-" He mumbled.

"Just drop it Bill. I wasn't gonna let the pathetic Mr Bell get a hit on me. That's it. End off." Arthur stated with finality.

"You looked like you was going to murder him for a moment there. Then you just pushed him away like he was nothing." Bill continued babbling listlessly.

"Bill. Drop. It." Arthur warned.

"Okay. I'll lay off. Let's just get this over with. I don't wanna be in this damn cold any longer than I have too." Bill complained loudly.

Arthur gave him a wary look and then shook his head. The man was a damn joke.

"Same here. Let's start west and go from there. Cover the whole thing in one sweep." He set out, knowing exactly where the large O’Dirscoll encampment was.

Bill nodded in agreement and together they walked to their horses, mounted up and set off.

As they left Coulter behind them, Arthur studied Bill lowly, analyzing him with veiled scrutiny.

At that moment, he was giving Brown Jack a long pat and even smiling fondly at him with a glint in his eyes, too intent on his petting to realise that he was being watched.

Arthur stopped himself from snorting out of amusement. Bill looked ridiculous.

His horse was the only living being he unhesitatingly showed open affection to. It made him seem almost likeable.

With the rest of the gang, he was loud and brash and ceaselessly rude most of the time. Which had earned him a well-deserved reputation as a bit of a dumb jackass with rough edges, but with a (somewhat) nice persona hidden away beneath it all.

The only circumstances in which he did treat anyone with any semblance of overt niceness was when he let his walls down on rare occasions if someone was very pleasant to him first or if he got extremely drunk and let loose at the campfire late at night.

However, there was one exception to this rule, one person that Bill Williamson had consistently been kind to and treated well throughout the years he’d been with the gang. And coincidentally, someone who they both shared a similar bond with as honorary uncles.

Jack Marston.

When the boy had been kidnapped by the Braithwaite’s, Bill hadn't shut up about "giving them hell for taking a child, as it was something no one should do" during the assault on their estate. And he’d backed up his words, killing numerous Braithwaite men without breaking a sweat and had even attempted to rush ahead and scour the main house for Jack alone on one occasion, before Dutch had yelled at him to stay with them lest his recklessness get him killed.

And as with Javier, Arthur didn't quite know what to make of him, or their relationship.

Bill Williamson's main problem was that he was a big idiot. A well-meaning one most of the time, but an idiot all the same. He cared about people, but like Javier, loyalty was paramount to him. Even ahead of his family. Especially to Dutch, whom he’d claimed had saved his life after his expulsion from the army.

Arthur knew that he had tried to steal from Dutch one day and the older man had quickly countered him and mocked him for his pathetic attempt. But instead of turning him away, Dutch had invited him to join the gang and learn to become a better gangster. An action which Bill had seen as being welcomed into the fold of a family, and in Arthur’s opinion, to a lifestyle that he could easily adopt to make up for his own shortcomings.

And he’d been right. Bill was one of the most eager and violent criminals among them, second only to Micah and Dutch. Which meant he hadn’t been too surprised when the other man had turned on him in the end. He’d would be willing to bet that Bill had followed Dutch beyond that into true ruin, betraying and forsaking everything he’d cared about for an ideological excuse to commit crime.

Any goodness in him, had needed the presence and care of other people for it to be brought to the forefront. And in Bill’s case, it was his friendship with Arthur and John and the others, and his care for Jack, that had acted as a hook for him to pull himself up out of grouchy anger and instability.

But that was why, as much as Arthur hated to admit it, he still considered Bill a part of his family to a small extent. Because of his immense love for Jack, his genuine devotion to the whole gang, and the fact that he’d, somewhat paradoxically, been more caring towards him than Javier, and more sympathetic of his tuberculosis during his final days alive. Even to telling off Micah and his friends when they’d tried to mock him for his illness and standing up for him on a few occasions when they’d had to go on jobs.

However, that still didn’t make up for his bullheaded betrayal and his increasingly violent and turbulent behavior during those final months. His desperation to prove himself to everyone, but at the same time remain loyal to his criminality and Dutch, had destroyed any familial bonds he’d cultivated.

In Arthur’s opinion, all that Bill had proven was that he was a coward, a poor liar, and a vicious murderer.

 

 _I bet that Bill woulda continued getting worse n' worse after I died, being corrupted by Dutch n’ Micah more and more without John n’ I to hold him back. I wonder just how bad he got?_ Arthur thought darkly and looked down and frowned.

"Hey Arthur, are we gonna talk about strategizin'? In case we come across any of them O'Driscoll boys and need to take em out real quick." Bill's loud questioning snapped Arthur back to reality.

"We ain't attacking them Bill. Dutch didn't want that. We are just gonna scout around and see where they're camped out at." Arthur lectured him softly, looking back and giving him a reproachful look.

"I know that. But what if we try n’ take a prisoner?" Bill asked. He wasn’t angry or anything, but his eyes had a determined glint to them. He probably thought that he had come up with a brilliant plan for their mission. When in reality, he hadn’t.

"Why would we take a prisoner? It's a quick in and out Bill. This ain't a warmongering mission." Arthur stated plainly

"But we could get info n’ stuff, if we get just one man. Don't underplay what we can do Arthur. We can easily capture someone." Bill argued stubbornly, his expression darkening oh so slightly.

"Just because it’s easy to do, doesn’t mean we should do it. I ain't taking a prisoner Bill. And how the hell are we gonna capture "one man" without getting close to their camp? If one of their scouts or someone- anyone, goes missing, they'll notice and know something is up. People just don't randomly disappear. We don't want them to think anything is wrong." Arthur snapped back.

"Right, right. No need to be so sharp. I was just suggesting is all." Bill wanly defended himself and went back to scowling alone.

Arthur turned away and swallowed thickly.

Bill's back-pedaling reminded him of the bank coach robbery the man had tried to mastermind in New Hanover, when they’d been staying at Horeshoe Overlook. It'd been an unmitigated disaster. Bill hadn't done anything that you needed to do to pull off a successful heist. Like come up with a plan at all. Only a vague outline along "distract the coach somehow, get them to stop and hold them up."

Bill had made him Tilly come along to provide a "womanly distraction" but hadn't told her anything about the heist itself. To Arthur's frustration, they'd both argued about it ceaselessly on the way to the holdup location. So, when numerous lawmen had turned up suddenly, against Bill’s expectations, Tilly had bailed as soon as she could, escaping mere moments before a massive gunfight had broken out. One that would’ve surely killed her had she stuck around and gotten caught in the crossfire.

Then they'd been forced to chase the coach halfway across the county, dodging bullets and killing more and more lawmen along the way until finally shooting down the driver and getting it far away enough from the main road. And to perfectly top all of this off, Arthur had had to use his own dynamite to open the sturdy lockbox of the coach as the Bill hadn't thought to bring any of his own to get the money out. Afterwards, he had claimed that he’d “accidentally” left them behind back at camp. A pathetic excuse.

All of Bill's plans always went awry in the same way. The man would get a solid lead and hatch a vague idea for a robbery but was fucking useless at both planning and carrying it out.

The gang had always mocked and derided Bill for his errors. For every failure and mistake and misstep he made. They made fun of him more than anyone else, even Kieran after his kidnapping and Micah at the height of his asinine behaviour.

The thing was that Bill did _genuinely_ try to be helpful. In his own way. He loved the gang and wanted to steal and rob and kill for _it_ , not himself. At least, not at first.

It was something that Arthur had forgotten; Bill’s criminality went hand in hand with his devotion _to_ his family, not against it or before it. Not one bit.

It was only after so many people had died- so many of their family had died, that Bill had slipped into the beginnings of, what was no doubt, a path of selfish depravity and wanton destruction.

Once upon a time, Arthur had felt the same way about their criminal enterprise. Except his response to their family and lifestyle failing had been the opposite, thanks to him having to reflect on his own mortality and morality due to his impending death, and his relationship with John giving him a new sense of purpose on what was right.

He wondered that if he hadn’t had either of those things, would he have turned out the same way as Bill? Declined and fallen into deep immorality and instability?

He inhaled sharply and pinched his brow out of frustration, then exhaled ruefully.

What was he thinking? Comparing himself to Bill was a stupid thing to do- but then why did he feel the parallel between them was somewhat prudent?

Sneaking a quick look at his companion, he saw that Bill had a face of thunder-pursed lips and an ugly frown. He was obviously angry, probably over his idea being shut down.

Arthur pursed his own lips and looked forward, reflecting on his complicated feelings towards Bill.

Just like everyone else, he’d always reflexively pushed him down without hearing him out or giving his plans a proper overview. Most of the time it’d been warranted, when the other man had been inconsiderate with demanding thanks and a fair chance for his stupidity. But…maybe it’d been a mistake being so dismissive to him overall, when a gentler and firmer approach would’ve been more justified in keeping him morally grounded and making him less of a grump.

It meant that his actions in rejecting Bill during their ride had been a mistake as well, when it could’ve been an opportunity to bring him around to his side on the gang and its issues.

 _As much as I don't wanna admit it, maybe if I try to recognize Bill's efforts more, I can slowly draw him away from Dutch's influence. Maybe I can even include Javier- I did make him promise to talk to me again, about Blackwater and Micah’s involvement in it._ Arthur decided, remembering his previous conversation with the Mexican.

He paused for a few moments, ruminating on what was the right thing to say to Bill to sway him, then nodded to himself before speaking up.

"Hey, Bill. Your plan- it might work. But we gotta be patient n’ such. It ain’t a thing we can mess up, we need to think about it." Arthur conciliated, doing his best to sound encouraging. He didn’t want to take a prisoner but was hoping that Bill would take the praise and back down and think on his plan some more before bringing it up again.

Unfortunately, he didn’t.

"See? It is a good plan. Let's get us a prisoner and take em’ back to Dutch for interrogating." Bill said, sounding dangerously smug.

"Hold on, I never said that. It’s still a poorly thought out plan overall. It’ll never work if we just rush in and capture someone, the way you want to. No, we need to lie low and sneak up on someone, like a scout or something. And that’s _if_ we get an opportunity. For all we know, the O’Driscoll’s could be careful and post a lookout." Arthur said quickly, already regretting giving Bill the inch he’d had.

"Okay, Morgan. You've made your point. I need to think things through more. But you're considering it now at least. As you should." Bill conceded grudgingly.

"What even made you think of it anyway? Usually you ain't one for taking prisoners Bill. You prefer gunning to thinking." Arthur said conversationally, trying to move on.

"I dunno. It just came outta nowhere. I thought about them O'Driscolls camping out here and got a strange feeling- like we'd done it all before. Taking a prisoner- an O’Driscoll, I mean. Actually, we ain’t ever…what the fuck am I saying. It’s just a strange feeling I have about it, is all." Bill rambled unevenly.

""Like we'd done it before?"" Arthur echoed and frowned. Bill was making him uncomfortable.

"Don't mock me. That's what it felt like, when I was thinking on it. Like we'd taken a prisoner here before and kept him- an O'Driscoll _alive._ We hate each n' every single one of em for good reason, but for some reason we kept this one alive..." Bill trailed off uncertainly.

Arthur snuck a quick look at him. They didn’t have that much time left. The river was just coming up and he estimated they were about two-thirds of the way to the O’Driscoll camp.

Bill was scowling again, but not in his usual angry manner. Instead, he looked uncharacteristically sad. His eyes were low, and his mouth was drooping.

 _Does he...remember Kieran? Somehow? I didn't think that could be possible. No, I had an idea. Just not about him. I need to do something._ Arthur thought quickly, not wanting the moment to pass.

If Bill could remember...what did it mean? Had he died too? Could he-should he do anything to try and jog his memory?

Then he remembered something about Kieran and Bill. And decided to bite the bullet.

Although it wasn’t his stop priority, maybe jogging Bill’s memory could reveal more about how he’d been sent back in time. And if he uncovered that, then it might help him in changing the gang’s fate if he could understand the mechanics behind it.

He slowed Jimmy down, then turned back and cleared his throat. Bill raised his head and gave him an inquisitive look, slowing Brown Jack to a trot.

"How about we geld him then?" Arthur said lightly.

"Huh. Geld who? What the fuck are you-" Bill snarled.

"Our prisoner idiot. Well, our imaginary prisoner really. Think about it. It could be really funny. A great interrogation technique." Arthur joked, making sure his tone stayed friendly, even though uttering the words made him feel slightly ill. He hated joking at Kieran’s expense like that. Even if the other man wasn’t there to hear it.

Bill was silent for a moment, his expression one of fraught confusion. Then rather suddenly, he burst into wild, rolling laughter.

"Haha. That's a good one Arthur. And it ain't like he needs it really. I bet he'll be cowering- lemme do the talking if we do interrogate him. I'll use that line." Bill declared, ending his long laugh with a small chuckle.

"Sure. Save some fun for me though." Arthur said minutely.

"Of course. Now let's go find us an O'Driscoll." Bill said excitedly.

"Let’s hope we do Bill, but remember, we need to be real careful about it. First, we should be focusing on scouting ahead instead of just talkin'- I think we should head there next." Arthur said and indicated the western fork in the main road. It led to an overpass, where he knew the O'Driscoll camp lay just beyond it.

"Sounds good." Bill said faintly, and abruptly paled considerably. His cheer was suddenly gone.

"Right." Arthur said, choosing to stay silent.

He wanted to see what Bill would do next, without his input.

" _Why do I feel the same way? Like I done this all before? The gelding...why the fuck does it make me feel the same way? Have I done this all before? No, that’s mad."_ Bill ranted gruffly to himself. His tone was manic.

Arthur’s heart stopped for a moment. It was so obvious. And either because he’d been too tired or in denial, he hadn’t accepted the possibility before.

That others could remember, or at the very least have an instinctual recollection of the past timeline.

 _So that’s how it is. Bill does remember- or at least, has an impression of what happened. Is John the same? Is that why he’s been behaving so oddly? I need to confront him. I can’t deny it anymore...I’ve been doing too much of that already._ He decided and swallowed thickly.

For some reason, it was hard to face. But it made perfect sense- but if it was true, then how had John died? When-

He shook his head and spurred Jimmy on. He couldn’t concentrate on that now.

Because he could see rising smoke in the near distance.

 

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Howzat?
> 
> Right, other fic, to just quickly put it out there, it’s a Danganronpa V3 fanfic with certain pairings and has spoilers for the games. So, if any of you like it, please read it if you want more from moi.


	5. Bill and Arthur's bogus adventure

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I Know it's been 5 months and I'm so ashamed I could die. I am really sorry and I hope I can keep this fic gong, but I apologise in advance if I disappoint you all...
> 
> Ok. Want to keep this short because I know you guys want to read the chapter! I AM getting back into this, but due to my studying + exams + busy IRL Job/personal issues and the fact I haven’t played RDR2 in a few months, means I’m a bit rusty with the characterisation atm. Thank god I made my character bios and copious plans, If I didn’t have those I would probably be hiding somewhere and panicking over my life!
> 
> I still love Arthur, John, Jack, Hosea, Tilly, Miss Grimshaw, Uncle and the rest! I just need to get back into the saddle a bit!  
> Enjoy the story! I will try to go back to my two week update schedule, or maybe ten days as the next chapter is much shorter, atm, than this one!
> 
> I’M BACK!!

He let Bill continue ranting to himself as they drew closer to the O'Driscoll camp. Now that he’d confirmed his suspicions, he didn’t need to jog the memory of the other man anymore. Not that he wanted to, if Bill remembered more it could be very dangerous for his goals and could complicate the timeline.

But if Bill did remember more…he might have to kill him to stop him from interfering and potentially making others such as Dutch or even Micah, remember the past- or rather, future.

Strangely enough, he did not relish the thought. He didn’t want to kill Bill so early…He’d rather try to reason with him somehow, if he could.

“Look Bill! There’s smoke. That could be it.” He said loudly, pointing out the smoke he’d seen earlier, and Bill quickly snapped to attention and nodded.

Hitching their horses to the branches of a low-lying tree, they dismounted and crept to the cliffs edge.

Peering over, they found a teeming O’Driscoll camp. One that contained a focal point of the gang’s destruction; the plan to hijack Leviticus Cornwall’s train. Something that Dutch had pounced on as an opportunity to save his family, without really understanding the cost behind it or the ruin it beheld.

It was strange to think that he’d once believed the same thing. Now he was wiser and recognized the scheme for the disaster it was. It would draw far too much attention to the gang and would sic the Pinkertons into hunting them relentlessly until they were all dead.

"So, got any plans for how we should do this?" Bill ventured stupidly after a few moments, full of gruff eagerness to move forward recklessly than be careful. Yet again, the point of their excursion had gone over his head.

Arthur sighed. He really had done the wrong thing in praising and encouraging the other man. As small as his kind words had been, it made Bill into a fucking headache to put up with.

"Look Bill- we’re just here to look around and get stock of everything. Let’s do that first and then we’ll look for an outlying scout or something. Remember what we agreed. So, get out your binoculars and do your best to spot important things- like where they keep their horses n’ such. The sooner we finish, the sooner we can go looking for potential prisoners. All right?" Arthur said slowly and gave the other man a wary look. He felt like he was lecturing an overgrown child.

His seriousness went over Bill’s head. The man just gave him a quick but short nod, expression harshly guarded, before rushing to his saddle to get his binoculars.

His movements were manic and careless. As he went, he stepped on several twigs and sticks, loudly cracking them in half, showing his barely concealed excitement at the fact that Arthur had actually taken one of his plans seriously. He was giddy with it.

Arthur sighed again. If they’d been any closer to the camp, then Bill’s antics would’ve signaled their presence to the enemy gang and they would have probably been forced to flee.

And if they were caught…there were an awful lot of O’Driscoll’s with horses- then they would have been tortured in the typical O’Driscoll fashion. Something he had no desire to go through again. In the final months of the gang, he’d had horrific nightmares of that time. Thankfully they had gone away for some reason with the do-over he’d gotten, and he was heartily glad for it.

He barely suppressed a shudder, and quickly pulled himself together as he heard Bill sidle his way up to him from behind, just as carelessly as before. The man really had no tact or grace.

“Here Arthur.” Bill said gruffly, and abruptly shoved a pair of binoculars into his hands. “I got em’ for you from your saddlebags.”

Arthur blinked. He’d been so preoccupied in lamenting Bill’s clumsiness and worrying about giving himself away, that he’d completely forgotten to get his own binoculars.

Yet his companion had taken that into consideration and retrieved them for him anyway. Without enquiring about his odd behavior.

Bill had actually done something _nice._ It was a fucking miracle.

“Uh, thanks Bill. I was jus’- got fixated on thinking about them O’Driscolls. I sure hate em’ and wish we could take em out now. _All_ of them. The only good O’Driscoll is a dead one.” He muttered quickly and joined Bill on the edge. It wasn’t really a lie, as he really did still hate all the O’Driscolls for how they’d mistreated the gang over the years. Barring Kieran of course- and as the man had frequented attested to, even he really wasn’t one anymore.

Bill snorted lightly.

“Don’t mention it. I get where you’re coming from Arthur. I hate these bastards too. I know they never really did anything to me, but from how Dutch speaks of them, they must really be mean sons of bitches. Ones who won’t be missed when we finally take them out. But you’re right- I didn’t know they’d be so many here. It would be dumb to try n’ take em on, just the two of us. And they must have something real big planned. A heist of some kind. A big one. They have so many men here that even I can see that.” Bill stated with surprising seriousness.

“Yeah. Let’s hope it ain’t something that affects us. We wanna take em out, not get caught in the crossfire of some big O’Driscoll scheme. Still, I’m sure that when the time comes- when Dutch n’ Colm finally duke it out or we get a chance to kill him, we’ll succeed and wipe em’ out. We’re netter at shootin’ and such. Outclassin’ em completely.” Arthur said rashly, ensuring his tone was wry and harsh to convince Bill that he was being solemn about it. In truth, he didn’t care about wiping them out aside from making sure they never caught any of his family or that he never went through their torture ever again. He’d rather die that suffer that once more.

Bill stayed silent. He seemed oddly fixated on watching the O’Driscolls and was oblivious to his words. Almost like he was looking for something, or someone.

Arthur swallowed. He had a good idea who- maybe Bill was unconsciously remembering Kieran again?

 _Whatever. I need to get on._ He repeated to himself again, hoping that the he could finally stop getting distracted and actually do something to change things.

Looking through his binoculars, Arthur did a quick overview of the whole camp, only noting everything of relative importance: the placement of guards at important points, where the horses where, what reinforcements the camp had, and lastly, the hut where he knew the dynamite was. Maybe he could hide it from the gang or something…his recollection of the camp was rusty. It would be better to be prepared than not.

He also kept an eye out for Kieran, if he could somehow spot him amongst all the lanky O’Driscoll faces. But he couldn’t see the man anywhere.

Frowning, he felt an uneasy feeling rise in his gut. For some reason, Kieran’s absence was making him uncomfortable.

 _It’s probably nothing. He might be in one of the buildings, or out hunting or scouting or something. Not every difference needs to have an underlying reason, or suspicion to it. Kieran can’t have remembered._ He thought, uncharacteristically panicking slightly.

Despite all this, he kept at it long after he’d finished, looking for the younger man as long as he could.

A good amount of time passed, and then Bill was huffing and putting his own binoculars away.

"Come on Arthur. I think we got everything we need. Dutch'll be pleased with our intel." He said.

"You sure? I mean, do you think we know everything?" Arthur asked, trying to stall for time.

"Of course, I'm sure. I ain't fooling around Arthur. We got what we came for- now let's just quickly look for any wandering scouts and if we can't find any, we'll get back to Dutch right away.” Bill said lowly.

"Then let's git. Maybe we'll even come across an O'Driscoll on the open trail if we're lucky. One that got lost and wandered out, ripe for the taking." Arthur suggested jovially, trying to distract Bill from his lapse.

"Yeah, yeah. That'll never happen. No one is _that_ dumb." Bill said and rolled his eyes, but his mouth quirked up ever so slightly.

Arthur looked away and huffed quietly. Good. The other man hadn’t called out his time wasting.

They remounted their horses and set off, keeping an eye out for any other riders.

A minute or so later they were back on the mountain trail and paused so that they could discuss where to look for prisoners.

"Well we should get near the camp on ground level. Stick to the outskirts and see if we can get any stragglers and hightail em out of there." Bill suggested.

Arthur shook his head. Bill had already forgotten.

"Too close. You even said we was just gonna look for some faraway scouts. Not try and actively blow our cover." he argued.

"R-right. That was foolish of me I'll admit. I shouldn't have forgotten. That ain't like me." Bill said and looked further down the road, avoiding meeting his gaze out of embarrassment. Then he abruptly froze.

"What is..." Arthur started and followed his gaze, only to be struck dumb when his eyes settled on what Bill had seen.

It was Kieran. He was a few feet away from them, seated upon a brown horse with heavy saddlebags, staring at them with a surprised expression.

Then it morphed into one of deep fear and he turned his horse and fled. In the opposite direction from the O'Driscoll camp, Arthur blearily noted.

He heard Bill curse beside him and set off after him. He followed without pause.

"So, I was right. We did come across an O'Driscoll on the open road." Arthur yelled and laughed madly, the abruptness of the situation getting to him.

"We was lucky! This one is our prisoner." Bill shouted highly. He had an excited gleam in his eye.

It took less than a minute for them to catch up and Arthur lassoed Kieran before Bill could, silently apologizing to him as he fell from his horse-Branwen, he remembered it was called, with a pained cry and hit the ground hard. Bill jumped off Brown Jack and quickly grabbed Branwen’s reins before she could run away and tied them to his own.

Arthur got off Jimmy and hauled Kieran in, trying to do it gently so the man wouldn’t get hurt too much. But Bill was watching him, so he yanked a few times to keep up appearances of mistreating an O’Driscoll.

"What the hell are you- I wasn't doing nothing!" Kieran shouted pitifully and tried to back away, which only succeeded in making him trip over and land on his side. This reduced him to wailing pitifully as he flopped uselessly, like a caught fish, as he was drawn in. He was scared shitless, and it was an uncomfortable sight to behold.

Arthur's gut twisted painfully. Kieran had been put through enough pain and suffering in his life, especially his brutal death at the hands of Colm O’Driscoll. And now he would have to face Dutch and the possibility of being tortured by him, as well as being as being ostracized by everyone he’d once been close to, yet again.

Which he- couldn’t let happen. He saw the other man as a dear friend, and he still owed him for having saved his life all those months ago.

A debt that he would have to repay. Starting now- as soon as they got back to camp, and he could defend Kieran before Dutch. For now, just for now he had to keep up appearances and-

Bill roared with laughter and rubbed them together eagerly as Arthur finally brought Kieran close and hogtied him, before hauling him up onto Jimmy’s saddle.

"Shut up O'Driscoll, or we'll geld you." Bill threatened, when Kieran continued whimpering as Arthur settled him in.

Kieran abruptly paled, and Arthur tensed when he started shaking violently. Like a leaf in the wind. The poor man was beyond just being simply scared- it’s as if he was mentally scarred by something.

"N-no. I ain't no O'Driscoll mister. At least anymore- I quit this morning. I left a note saying so. I wanna get out of here and get as far away from them as I can." Kieran rambled madly.

"Do you think we care about that? You're a damn O'Driscoll. No one can just up and quit. Give it up, it's obvious you're a lying scumbag." Bill said and snorted as he mounted Brown Jack and turned to them.

"I ain't lying. I'll tell you everything- about what the O'Driscolls have planned. Everything. Please just let me go!" Kieran wailed desperately as Arthur mounted Jimmy ahead of him. Somehow, his shaking _intensified_.

His reaction unnerved Arthur.

"Shut it. If you work with us, we'll treat you alright. But if you ain't- prepare for a world of hurt. This sonofabitch will geld you." Arthur warned Kieran, trying not to sound too harsh.

"That's right. Now let's git this guy to Dutch, Arthur." Bill said, his eyes flashing with triumph.

"Dutch? As in Van der Linde? No- he'll-" Kieran whimpered, ending with a choke as Arthur started Jimmy forward. He’d wanted to wait, but Bill was there.

He had to restrain himself from comforting him in any way.

 _Don’t worry Kieran. It’s only fer a few minutes. We’ll get to Dutch and I can help you then._ Arthur thought, trying to desperately come up with a plan on the fly.

They rode in tense silence, aside from Kieran's loud pleading. He eventually quietened down into low mumbling about "nightmares of death and fear” and that he “had to run away to escape them". This made Arthur even more uncomfortable, because it meant that Kieran might be like Bill, remembering vague notions of the future. Except instead of uncomfortable paranoia, it was the horror of his death.

Then Kieran suddenly started yelling about the O'Driscolls plan to rob a train and Arthur's heart plummeted as Bill grinned wolfishly and demanded more info. He’d been hoping that Kieran wouldn’t be desperate enough to reveal the heist until they’d gotten back to Coulter. Now Dutch would find out early and would do anything to find out more because of his intense curiosity and want for money. The gang’s fate would be sealed if he didn’t dissuade him. He would have to talk to Javier as soon as possible and try to convince Lenny if he even could.

He’d been too slow in trying to change things- he should’ve spent more time talking to the gang than wallowing in relief and helping around camp. If he only he could go back once more and redo it all again. But that was a stupid thought, so he buried it deep and watched as Bill interrogated Kieran, waiting for the moment he could step in and try and manage things for the better.

"Come on. Spill it. I mean- you say you ain't no O'Driscoll no more, O'Driscoll, so tell us everything or I'll chop you apart." Bill snarled.

"O-Okay, Okay. It's Leviticus Cornwall's train- some rich type, it's running through here in a few days. At the end of May. I don't know the exact date. Only a few of the boys did. And they didn’t share any info. Leviticus Cornwall is real rich. Lotsa money. That's all I know. I swear. Please don't hurt me." Kieran said quickly.

"Huh. We'll see if you're lying to us. Dutch'll decide. If you ain't telling the truth then I'll kill you myself. Gut you like a fish and such." Bill said, tone low and menacing.

"N-no. You need to let me go. I thought- I'll tell you everything I know. Dutch too. About where the O'Driscoll's have camps, where they keep money- it's usually in the chimney in a strong lockbox, and what I can remember about their plans. But you hafta let me go. Afterwards, I mean. Because Colm- if he finds out I'm with you, he'll do worse than kill me. He'll chop my head off or something worse. I have n-nightmares of that and being tortured real horrible like. I need to get away- leave America and go far away. _Anywhere_." Kieran wailed and started _sobbing_ like a little child, large tears welling from his eyes and running down his panicking face.

It made Arthur's heart seize up. Kieran really was remembering- or at least only remembering the most violent parts of his first life.

He…he couldn’t keep back anymore and let him continue suffering. He had to comfort him- or, or just do _something_. He had to be clever about it, lest Bill suspect him of being an O’Driscoll sympathizer, or something equally dumb.

 _To hell with it. I_ _can be_ _decent to him at least and vouch for him. If it makes me look_ _bad-_ _for now, I can redeem myself in other ways._ He decided as Bill chuckled lightly at Kieran’s discomfort, clearly enjoying his pain.

His reaction made Arthur angry, and he gripped Jimmy’s reins tightly to stop himself from yelling at the other man to lay off. He couldn’t do that, but if Bill tried to stop him from speaking up for Kieran, he’d clock him.

 

"Please shut up, or at least quieten the fuck down. We ain't gonna do fucked up stuff to you unless you deserve it. And you most certainly ain’t- what's yer name?" Arthur asked coarsely, deciding to do his best to comfort Kieran as much as he could before they got back.

Bill frowned at him for getting in the way of his fun.

"K-kieran. Duffy." Kieran managed to mumble through his crying.

"Kieran, calm down. We ain't gonna torture you like that. You have my word. As little as it probably means to you. That means that the worse Dutch'll probably do to you is tie you up somewhere- I'll make sure he won’t starve you or leave you to freeze." Arthur said tersely. He couldn't help it.

Bill gave Arthur an incredulous look, probably for daring to assure an “evil O’Driscoll”, but he countered it with a determined glance and stared him down.

Bill rolled his eyes and turned away after a few moments, acquiescing for now.

"Really? You mean that mister-" Kieran mumbled.

"Arthur. Arthur Morgan. And yes, I mean it." Arthur said.

"Well thank you then Mr Morgan. You're so kind." Kieran rambled. He’d stopped crying. Which was good. But Arthur couldn’t let him get too comfortable because of Bill and the fact he had to keep his cover.

"Don't say that. Because I ain't. If it comes out that you're lying, I'll hang you myself. String you up and everything. Just be glad I don't think you're keeping things from us. You're so pathetic that I can't believe you'd be stupid enough to try n’ be willingly deceitful in a situation like this." Arthur snapped at him sharply, making sure his voice hit like a whip.

 _Sorry Kieran._ He thought afterwards, more to assuage his guilt than anything else.

He could feel Kieran wince and nod desperately behind him.

"Now shut yer mouth and keep quiet unless I order you to speak. We're only a few minutes from camp. Let us do the talking or Dutch’ll tear you a new one." Arthur instructed him.

"Okay-" Kieran stuttered.

"What did I say?" Arthur said.

Kieran stayed silent.

"Good. You finally get it." Arthur said and quickened Jimmy.

"Arthur, are you sure about this? Trusting an O'Driscoll- giving your word to speak up for him n’ front of Dutch? That ain't like you" Bill said lowly and caught up to him.

Arthur stayed silent for a few moments, debating with himself and trying to think of something to say to allay Bill's questioning. Then an idea came to him.

"Bill, that feeling you had before- like we'd "done" this all before, are you having it again?" Arthur asked with fake earnest, riding on the hope that Bill's memory issues could be used.

Bill blinked a few times. Then scowled and narrowed his eyes at him. Thankfully he didn’t seem to be overtly angry, just confused instead.

"Strange thing is, I am. More so than before...why am I telling you this? In fact, why are you evem askin'? There's no point to this Arthur. We have an O'Driscoll prisoner and we shouldn't be treating him with any sorta decency." Bill muttered angrily, becoming self-defensive.

"Because I had that same feeling Bill. When we saw this here former O'Driscoll. He- Kieran ain't one anymore. He's telling the truth in that regard. I'd bet on it. Would you?" Arthur declared, ignoring Bill's complaint.

Bill flinched slightly and withdrew. He looked taken aback. He obviously hadn't expected him to declare that he'd felt the same way and bring it up to defend Kieran.

"Arthur, he's a fucking O'Driscoll. They’re all the same- a buncha lying scumbags. He's just fucking with us- there's no way he could be openly honest. None." Bill said, sounding uncertain.

"Isn't there?" Arthur pressed.

"Well I- look, we're almost back to Coulter Arthur, so just drop this. I won't get in the way of you talking to Dutch about the prisoner. Just- l feel strange about all this. It feels familiar and like we’d done it all before." Bill repeated and scrunched up his face.

"Fine by me. But Bill, I gotta admit. You might be onto something- if I feel the same way, who knows what might happen. Now, let’s try n’ be positive about things. I bet Dutch'll be happy to have a new heist. He’s been rearing for one. Think of all the money." Arthur joked, faking cheerfulness.

Bill stared at him blankly for a moment, then he shrugged and grinned, deciding to join in.

"Sure. It'll be good to have something to focus on. I've been damn bored up here. Especially with having to put up with Micah. He’s a real piece of work." Bill complained.

"Yeah...we all gotta put up with Micah. He only bin’ with us for six months, but it feels like years and years. If I could, I’d smash his smug face in." Arthur said, allowing derisiveness to sneak into his tone. At this point in time, Bill shared his hatred of the fucking snake and didn’t have his strange pseudo-friendship with him as he’d had in the end at Beaver’s Hollow. It felt good to vent a little.

Bill barked shrilly. For a moment it actually seemed he would fall off Brown Jack, then he calmed himself and gave Arthur an oddly pointed look.

“You uh- you really hate him, don’t’cha?” He said.

“Yes. I do.” Arthur stated evenly. He didn’t want Bill to question him too much, especially as they were almost to Coulter, but he hoped it was just small talk.

It was a feeble wish.

“I hate his guts too. But you…your anger at him is something fierce. I ain’t never seen you get as mad as that. Over anything.” Bill whistled sharply, as if awed by it. “I just wanted to ask…about this morning. Now I know you said to lay off-but I’m kinda concerned bout’ you. I know I ain’t the sharpest, but can I just ask-what did Micah do to get you so riled at him? You haven’t spent that much time together over the past few weeks and you were civil, if strained, towards one another. What changed?” He rambled gruffly but looked at him with seemingly genuine concern.

Arthur sighed and resisted the urge to shut his eyes and look away. He didn’t want to deal with this now-with having to confront the truth of the past of his family.

Bill had _cared_ about him back then, before his attitude towards him had devolved into outright hatred for his doubt of Dutch, with only bare signs of his earlier devotion. And now that he was back in time, the rashly caring Bill was back. His odd behavior had piqued his worry enough that he was actually confronting him about it.

God. He must’ve been _pissed_ when he’d countered Micah.

So, what should he do?

If he downplayed Bill’s concerns and/or dismissed his questioning, then the other man would probably passively aggressively go to either Hosea, or god forbid- _Dutch_ and offhandedly confide that “Arthur was behaving strangely” or some other sidehand remark (to disguise his worries about him more than anything else. Bill _hated_ openly showing that he actually cared about anyone, except Jack) that would make Hosea or Dutch confront him.

Then he’d have to explain his behavior and probably his abrupt new hatred for Micah. It would get people talking and alert the traitor to his forward thoughts.

He looked back absentmindedly, head awash with panic and worry, and met the eyes of a frightened Kieran, who stared back at him with wide, unblinking eyes. They were quite bloodshot.

He had to deal with him as well. A traumatized former O’Driscoll who he had a debt to repay to.

If he answered Bill now, when he was here, then-

“Arthur?” Bill pressed evenly. “Are you- all together? Coulter is just up ahead. As for my questioning about Micah- just drop it. I can see you is not in the mood to answer me.” He finished sharply.

Kieran flinched slightly at his tone and looked away.

Arthur hurriedly shook his head and re-orientated himself and looked ahead.

Sure enough. The town was just in the distance.

He couldn’t leave Bill hanging. He had to say something and stop him from going to Dutch or Hosea- assuage his worries somehow. Even if he hated it.

“Bill- about Micah, It’s complicated…” He started slowly and trailed off with another sigh.

Shit. He was bad at this.

“Arthur?” Bill said his name again, albeit this time he sounded surprised more than angry.

“Look- It’s about Blackwater. I’ve talked to Javier about this- and I shouldn’t really be talking to you _now_ bout’ all this- but heck, I give up. I think that Micah is a bad influence on Dutch. You were at Blackwater, right?” Arthur said quickly.

Bill blinked.

“I was. But I was part of the getaway really. I weren’t on the boat when all the shooting was going down. Dutch told me to stay off as backup. Which I don’t really agree with. I shoulda bin there.” He complained, going off on a tangent.

Arthur couldn’t help but snicker, suppressing it into a light cough so Bill wouldn’t angry at him for it.

“C’mon Bill. Stay on track. Micah.” He chided gently.

“Right. I forgot- I didn’t mean too. I hope I ain’t becoming like my father-there I go again. Before I fuck up again, lemme think about Micah. Yeah- Micah got real worked up and such- he was yelling n’ screaming at me when we was running. Javier was with Dutch and the others, while we was together. You is right. He’s a fucking scumbag. I mean- I get angry and such, but not like him.” He said, not really clarifying what had happened.

“Bill, what did he _say_? Or do?” Arthur asked. He knew well enough how angry Micah Bell got, ever since he’d stupidly broken him out of Strawberry jail eons ago. Instead, he wanted to understand _exactly_ what had happened at Blackwater. The first time he hadn’t bothered too, implicitly trusting Dutch and his ability to lead the gang.

It was like a strange, distant memory. For some reason, thinking about it at that point suddenly made his head hurt like hell. Like it hadn’t happened the way-

“I can’t remember. It was all blaming and yelling. But know this, I support you Arthur. Over that asshole, n’ I always will, whatever happens.” Bill said with ferocious seriousness.

Arthur blinked. His head had stopped hurting. Still, he cleared his throat and moved on. It’d probably just been a headache from having to deal with everything, taking charge of so many issues and so many people.

“Thanks Bill. We should talk about this again some time. Flesh it out properly.” He mumbled, still shaking off his weird headache.

“Yeah. We should. Maybe we can even get Dutch to kick Micah out. The sooner that snake goes, the better.” Bill suddenly seethed, anger claiming him with sudden ferocity. He gripped his reins tightly and scowled ahead.

Arthur shut his eyes. He didn’t want to deal with Bill’s fury now, in addition to everything else, but he would have to, to get the other man to be cordial and calm by the time they got back to Coulter.

They were less than a minute away.

Bill had mentioned that he didn’t want to end up like his father, and it struck a chord within him, reminding him of a drunk memory by the fireside at Horeshoe Overlook, and Bill ranting about some illness his father had, and his worries of getting it.

Maybe it was that.

“Bill, what’s wrong?” Arthur said, firmly but gently.

“It’s that feeling we both had earlier. But it’s back again- worse than ever before. It’s making me wanna do something, But I can’t tell what. It’s like we done this all before- somehow.” Bill snapped.

Arthur felt Kieran tense behind him for some reason but didn’t waver from focusing on Bill. He could deal with the other in a moment.

“Well, just calm down. Look- you can take all the credit for capturing an O’Driscoll. Tell Dutch it was all thanks to you. It was yer idea after all. We probably wouldn’t have done it otherwise. He’ll be real pleased about it.” Arthur said, deciding it was best to give credit where it was due.

“R-really? But you- I was gonna mess it up, you fixed it.” Bill said slowly.

“That don’t matter. You were the brains Bill.” He said.

“Yeah I was. Thanks Arthur.” Bill said and smiled lightly, before looking away to hide his expression.

Arthur chuckled lightly and stole a quick look at Kieran, finally sussing his reaction to Bill’s words.

Kieran was oddly blank faced, staring into nothing. He’d looked like he’d seen a ghost.

Arthur cursed. He was really worried about him- but he could deal with it in a few moments.

They’d arrived back to Coulter.

Riding up to the main hut, they hitched their horses just as Dutch came out with Hosea and a few others. Mary-Beth was among them and she stared at Kieran with wide eyes and narrowed them as the young man met her gaze and stared back. Then she turned away and covered her face with her hands.

 _Huh. That’s strange._ Arthur thought as he got Kieran down, who had thankfully stopped shaking and seemed much calmer.

"Bill! Arthur! What have you got there? I thought it was just a recon mission." Dutch asked with a disapproving tone, as he walked up to them.

Bill cleared his throat gruffly and stepped forward.

"It was my idea- to try to capture an O'Driscoll to question. Arthur ran with it and said we should look for a scout, and I agreed. There’s nothing to worry about Dutch. We caught this here O’Driscoll on the open road. He was fleeing the gang- he says he ain't no O'Driscoll and was quitting anyway, and I decided that we should bring him in. But uh- I wouldn’t have been able to do it without Arthur." He rambled honestly, surprisingly not taking _all_ the credit and giving Kieran the benefit of the doubt. Or at the very least, a clear chance for him to prove himself.

Arthur silently thanked him for that. Bill had- was sorta a better man than he thought. A far cry from the dishonorable wreck he’d become in the end.

Dutch stared at them and then Kieran and opened and shut his mouth. Then his eyes blazed with fury and he sneered at them in disbelief.

Arthur couldn’t let him or his prejudice against the O’Driscoll’s get in the way of anything, so he hurriedly spoke up and added his assurance to Bill’s.

"Personally, I'm inclined to believe him Dutch. He- Kieran weren't even smart enough to deny that he was once an O'Driscoll when we captured him. He's willing to tell us everything about the gang and their plans. Ain't loyal to them one bit. Even told us about a train heist the O'Driscoll's have planned in a few days. Mark is name of one Leviticus Cornwall. Rich type." He said, deciding it would be best to divulge everything now so that he could hopefully convince Dutch that Kieran was a real rat against their enemies and hopefully appeal to his sense of helping others.

Dutch shut his eyes and took a deep breath, anger leaving his body as he relaxed, then he opened them and grinned proudly at him. He was happy that they had a new heist and a prisoner. Hopefully it wouldn’t blind him to how fucking stupid enacting the raid on Cornwall’s train would actually be.

Hopefully he’d have a chance to convince him not to go through with it if he could levy everyone else’s support. But Arthur was beginning to realize, least all of all from the manic greed gleaming in Dutch’s eyes, how fanciful a notion that was. It was going to be very hard to accomplish.

Next to Dutch, Hosea just shook his head and gave his friend a disappointed look, muttering "here we go again" to himself. But Dutch was thankfully too distracted with the news to hear him.

Further on, Mary-Beth was staring at them with a furrowed brow and a pinched mouth. She seemed perplexed by something.

"Nice one boys. As for this O'Driscoll- former or whatever he claims, he'd better give up _everything-_ and I mean every little plot or piece of information, however small or insignificant it may seem, to us. Although, I don’t think we can quite trust him. Maybe a lot of time in the fresh, _cold_ air will convince him to tell us _everything_. Stripped n’ tied up to a tree without food." Dutch said eerily and sneered at Kieran, eyes glinting with what Arthur sickly realised was _enjoyment_. He was getting a kick out of Kieran’s potential suffering.

Over his shoulder, Kieran started shaking again, his panicking body thrumming right next to his own, letting him feel every shudder and sharp breath of the suffering man. But Arthur had promised him that he would cover for him and stop him from getting tortured. And it was one he meant to keep, so he cleared his throat and shifted Kieran around, away from Dutch’s prying eyes, and stepped forward.

Almost immediately, Kieran calmed down. He was trusting in him. And Arthur would fulfill his expectations.

"There ain't no need for that Dutch. Not one bit. Kieran will tell us everything regardless. The threat of torture was enough to get him to start blabbering out there anyway- he’s a big baby. We just need to strap him to a chair somewhere and feed him scraps to keep him alive. It’s that simple. He was actually scared shitless when we found him- was afraid of Colm, and was freely leaving him. He’s a traitor to the O’Driscolls- if anything we should let him go after we’re done with him." Arthur said defensively.

Behind him, Kieran whispered a low “thank you”. But Arthur ignored him. He couldn’t give any indication he was defending him out of anything more than common decency, and not the deep regret and guilt that was his true motivation.

Dutch blinked and then scowled and glared at him. He looked truly angry- no _furious._

Mary-Beth flinched, and then gazed strongly at him. She looked quite livid herself.

"Are you going against my authority Arthur-" Dutch started furiously.

"Arthur's right. This nothing of a man won't conspire against us. Look at him Dutch, he was shaking real bad only a moment ago. There's no need to put him through hell. He'll tell us everything we need to know regardless." Hosea cautiously and gently interrupted him.

 _God bless you Hosea Matthews._ Arthur thought graciously and released a breath he realised he had been holding for a fair while, at least a few minutes. He felt relieved.

"Hosea! We don't know that. He's a damn O'Driscoll. You can't trust any of them." Dutch argued and glared softly at his second in command.

"Dutch, he’s already spilled the beans on a top of the line train heist. For heaven’s sake, if he’s telling the truth- and I think he is because I trust Arthur’s judgement, and it belongs to Leviticus Cornwall, one of the richest men this side of America, then there seems to be little love lost between him and his former gang if he's willing to sell out a heist of that caliber. Just think, it musta taken the O’Driscoll’s ages to plan out and get everything ready to pull it off. And I recognize that gleam in your eye. You want to swoop in and take it for yourself- for us to pull off. We shouldn’t- but we can discuss that later. For now, I think we can trust him." Hosea rallied.

"Fine. But Im’ still in charge. So, I get to dictate the terms of his imprisonment. We can put him in the disused hut next to the main barracks, and I want someone checking him every hour- so he ain’t gonna escape, and I want him bound up real tight. As for food, scraps are all he's getting. And it better not be off my plate or anyone else’s- anyone who doesn’t support keeping him prisoner. Arthur, Hosea- this is on you if it blows up in our faces." Dutch said gruffly, finally caving.

"I'll share my food with him. And I’ll try n’ get the other girls to spare some. Hosea and Arthur are in the right, Dutch. There's no need to be so harsh with him- Mr- I never caught his second name." Mary-Beth suddenly piped up, rather loudly, as if she'd been holding herself back.

Dutch and Hosea both jumped and gazed at her in stunned surprise.

Arthur felt Kieran raise his head and look around his shoulder. He looked down just in time to catch him stifling a small smile and blushing before he turned away and resumed hiding his expression.

 _Mary-Beth and Kieran huh...they was around each other a lot the first time. Hmm._ He mused to himself.

"I’ll share my rations as well Mary-Beth. There should be enough if we can get enough people to chip in. Now, do you want to help me get Mr Duffy set up?" He said jovially.

"All right. I'll do that. I got free time." Mary-Beth said lightly and quickly joined him.

Dutch stepped forward, a minute frown on his face, but Hosea stopped him by gently grabbing his arm and pulled him back. He whispered something to him, and Dutch nodded stiffly in response. They then both walked back inside the main hut, arguing lowly between themselves.

Bill, who’d been standing back and watching the unfolding events with rapt attention, respecting his earlier words, turned to them and shrugged briskly. Just shrugged. Nothing else.

“I’ll see you around Arthur. To talk about…whatever. If you want. Don’t let the O’Driscoll get too comfortable. You seem to be right with this one- but be careful. He could still turn on you. And you’d better not let him harm Mary-Beth- “He finished harshly and turned to Kieran.

“You hear that! I’ll have your hide if you lay a hand on her! Or anyone! You’re lucky Arthur is watching out for you. I’d still geld you if I could.” He yelled.

Kieran paled and nodded quickly.

Arthur rolled his eyes and couldn’t help a small chuckle escape him when Mary-Beth did the same. He managed to hide with a quick cough, so thankfully Bill didn’t hear.

“Bill- there’s no need for that. He’s tied up n’ everything- and I’ll tie him tighter if you want. He won’t get free. You know my knots hold. And he’s no threat anyways. Even to Mary-Beth I bet.” He said.

“Yes Bill- y’know I can hold my own. I’ll kick this former O’Driscoll black and blue if he tries anything. Now, why don’t you go and tell everyone that you captured the prisoner? Because you did, right?” Mary-Beth quickly followed.

“Yeah. I did. Arthur helped- but I was the brains. You impressed?” Bill gloated and puffed up his chest slightly.

Arthur grinned at him, pretending he was impressed himself, when in fact he was using the expression to hide his rampant amusement.

“Yeah. I am. And I’m sure everyone else will be, just as much as I am. Now why don’t you get going and tell em’- remember to tell the full story. Don’t leave any details out. Y’know how much I love a good one- I’d love to here it again. I’ll talk to you later about it if you want.” She said with false sultriness and gave him a dazzling smile.

“Sure. Uh- I’ll go n’ see Javier first then.” Bill said. His face was slightly red.

He quickly turned and stalked off, hurrying away from them as if his feet were on fire.

Mary-Beth’s expression quickly dropped, and she sighed earnestly, turning to give him a knowing look.

He should’ve known that she wouldn’t’ve been fooled by Bill’s bad lies of taking charge.

“He’s such a fool Arthur. It’s amazing how inept he is.” She stated factually. “Now, why don’t we get going? You can introduce me properly.” She started walking towards the main barracks. He followed her quickly.

"Right. Mr Duffy, this is Mary-Beth Gaskill." Arthur introduced her and hoisted the other man further up, so he’d have an easier vantage point to look around.

"H-hello Ma-Miss Gaskill." Kieran said bashfully, sounding awed.

"Mr Duffy." Mary-Beth said his name as coolly as she could manage, there was an undercurrent of excitement to it.

They soon arrived at the little hut Dutch had mentioned and Arthur got to work untying Kieran and then retying him to a small chair in the ramshackle building, making sure his knots were tight enough to keep him in place, but not so tight that they were uncomfortable. Still Kieran didn't seem to mind too much because he was focused on Mary-Beth, who was trying to shyly avoid his gaze by fidgeting with her hands. They were acting like two immature children- in love for the first time. Despite his own history, he did find it kinda sweet.

Arthur had to suppress a snicker when both of them blushed profusely, when they accidentally looked at one another.

Kieran quickly lowered his head and stared at the floor to hide his embarrassment, while Mary-Beth kept her head up and schooled her features, looking collected aside from some redness in her cheeks.

"There. All done. Nice and tight so you can't escape Mr Duffy." Arthur stated and stood back, pretending he was admiring his handiwork.

"Thank you Mr Morgan." Kieran said distantly, still looking at the floor.

"What are you saying that for, you silly fool? And look at me when I'm talking to you." Arthur snapped at him curtly, pretending that he was angry.

He still couldn’t help messing with the other man- provided it was in a totally light-hearted manner. He wouldn’t threaten him unless he had to keep up appearances.

Kieran looked up and wilted slightly. Mary-Beth sighed and shook her head.

"Mr Duffy, former O'Driscoll or not, you should be more polite to Mr Morgan. He can be real snippy when he's angry." She warned him.

"Yes Miss Gaskill. I will. I'm just feeling a little odd at the moment, Mr Morgan, I was just tryin' to pull myself together. Sorry." Kieran mumbled and turned red again.

"Well, just look at you two, getting along so well. Hey Mary-Beth, do you want to watch Mr Duffy first? It seems you can put up with him much better than I can. I can relieve you in n’ hour or so- I just need to see Lenny about something and help around camp a little. You don’t need to worry about feeding im’. I can do that too. I’ll sort out the food and bring it to him at dinner time." Arthur said warmly.

Mary-Beth blinked and looked at him and then Kieran, eyes going back and forth, back and forth. She was debating with herself whether to take him up on his offer.

"Sure. I'll keep an eye on him. Stop him from escaping if he ever so much as tries." She said minutely.

"You behave yourself Mr Duffy. I'll see you both soon." Arthur said and left.

"Miss Gaskill, you look like the reading type. The very clever reading type. Do you read a lot?" He heard Kieran ask just before the door closed behind him.

Arthur smiled to himself and went to find Lenny.

Not everything was as gloomy as he'd believed. If someone like Kieran could take his own initiative to avoid his original bloody fate, then there was plenty of hope for everyone else to do the same in some capacity. Then all he’d have to do was guide them away from the terrible future and change things so the gang could have a more peaceful end.

Not all of them would live. He could live with that. Heck, he could live with not making it to the end himself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hopefully not too bad or OOC, I hope?
> 
> Will probably give this ch another look over soon. Am not quite pleased with it.

**Author's Note:**

> Howzat?
> 
> Also I have classes this week, so will probably post the next chapter in a week. So 7-10 days.
> 
> My chapters tend to range from 3-8k words each. 
> 
> I will try to post this fic weekly/bi-weekly if I can.
> 
> I have most of it planned out, but have a few kinks to iron out in terms of plot.
> 
> Please leave Kudos/comment/whatever. My ego needs stroking.


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